


Encompasing

by TheBabydoll



Category: Henry Cavill - Fandom, The Tudors (TV)
Genre: Drama & Romance, Dubious Morality, Eventual Romance, Eventual Smut, F/M, Historical Inaccuracy, Historical References, Loss of Virginity, Mildly Dubious Consent, historical fiction - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-22
Updated: 2020-12-22
Packaged: 2021-03-09 03:42:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 13
Words: 36,356
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27098290
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheBabydoll/pseuds/TheBabydoll
Summary: Being the young ward of Thomas More means filling your days with knowledge, wanting for nothing and of course hiding the fact that you are a female in a male dominated world. More has adopted you from a young age after you lose your parents to war and famine. He teaches you about art, literature, astronomy, astrology as well as doing his hardest to avoid bringing you to court or blowing your cover, until you catch the watchful eye of Henry's right hand man, Charles Brandon who soon comes to realize, something's off about this young apprentice.
Relationships: Charles Brandon/Original Female Character(s), Charles Brandon/Reader
Comments: 41
Kudos: 65





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I'm currently trying to write myself out of a rut, and also just discovered The Tudors so here we are. I'm seeing this more as a challenge than anything else in attempt to sharpen my vocabulary, and what better way than writing a fanfic that requires flowery language? Anyways, I hope you enjoy, comments and kudos are always welcomed! We'll also say, that our character within the first few chapters will go by (Y/F/K) (your fake name.) anyways cheers.

You rise before the sun, when the world is still quiet and the rooster has yet to crow and the Earth is still cold, and covered in a dense blew mist of not yet-morning . Stretching your arms over your head and allowing them to crack as you settle into your body just as your day starts. This was the start of your routine, and you had succumbed to it's mundane nature as if it were Sunday's prayer. Religious and rigorous, the discipline settled into the marrow of your bones. Wake, wash, dress. A ceremony that had taken place every day since your first monthly, and began developing into a young woman. Not that you'd complain, however it's tediousness left you in such a rut you wondered what freedoms you were allowed under the guise of being the opposite sex; a man. Sitting at your vanity, removing your sleep tunic and holding your breath in as you strapped the frayed pieces of linen around the palms of your hands before slinging them over your back ,beginning to strap your breasts down to your chest. Carefully watching as you binded them to your frame so the distribution of fat and skin sat evenly underneath, so not to raise suspicion. You'd done it so often that you were sure you could bind yourself in your sleep, however if your mentor had taught you anything, it's that one could never be too careful. Finally came your under tunic, then your shirt, trousers and shoes which were two sizes too big, and equipped with a heel in order to make you appear taller than you were. Stuffed with extra stalkings in order to prevent slipping or dis footing but lord was this the worst part. The ill fitting leather often left you with blisters on your foot and toes and were the first thing you took off at the end of your days. Your hair, managing to keep your locks as long as they were so long as they were, you often braided it close to your skull so not to slip before they disappeared beneath your felt hat. Grabbing your satchel and books before scurrying out of your small cottage to meet More, you recalled the events that lead your life to this point. 

Thomas More had found you wondering the streets of London, scrapped knees and palms, skeletal and covered in mange. An ugly, dirty little thing. His wife; a widow saw you and instantly felt at a loss of words for a such a small child to be without so much. Like needle work, she took you home and made you here current project. Feeding you, nursing you, washing you. It was only once you'd recovered the couple discovered you were in fact; a girl. More hadn't really taken a fancy to you, he himself already a father and had saw what the world did with it's promising women knew not to get too attached to the youngin'. Until he found you sketching away in a book he had neglectfully left in your presence, an uncanny picture of his wife. After that the Philosopher immedietly took the responsibility of your education in his hands.

Insisting on giving you the same education as his own children, your erudition was not wasted on him. Not only learning to read and write, you learned Greek, Latin, French, devouring every book you could get your little hands on. Excelling at Astronomy and Astrology you became enamored with the idea that your fates were written in the stars and more so that you could decode them and find out what destiny had laid out for you. Once more, Thomas instantly knew you'd capture the attention of the leering and lecherous men of King Henry's court. He'd seen them all come and go, The belching bloated bellies of the hungry sharks that Henry kept in his company. A fool blinded by power and a sense of divine birthright that he wielded like a sword against his enemies and friends alike. Upon you getting your first monthly, Thomas knew you'd have to keep your true identity a secret, knowing the wolves would smell the blood on you, he did his damnedest to prevent you from falling into their wide gaping jaws. Your sixteenth birthday came and 10 winters had past since, and no one outside your adopted parents had known or suspected a thing. You'd prided yourself on this deception, even taking the liberty of learning to physically lower your voice, dropping it one baritone and speaking from your stomach, not your throat.

Alas coming to court was another ordeal, More had in his years not only become more brilliant but had caught the King's attention with his philosophical and astrological views, the cancerous king had all but bedded the beloved civil servant. You often found the duo on the castle roof top, speaking of the astronomical alignments, the conjuncts and squares of planets and how they affected everything from the weather, to the grim outcome of the battlefield. More kept you within arms reach for the most part but when you sat in the courtyard reading fortunes and trionfi cards of the vagabonds and other civil servants, he never felt the immediate need to be at your side, as to not raise suspicion.

As the morning sun peaked over the stone pillars of the courtyard and bleed through onto the tips of trees and bushes you splayed out your deck, shuffling idly as other servants began bleeding into the stone court yard. The heavy boots of council members tapping along the pathway. Most of them grazing over you, not giving the young ward a second glance as you continued shuffling your cards and laying them out, one by one. The cold morning illustrating your breath in doing so and the freeze, chilling the tips of your fingers. You splayed out your cards looking at the backs of them before beginning to pull them one by one; The Lovers, The Sun, The empress. "No, that can't be right. . ." you mumble under your breath, not noticing the shadow that'd been cast amongst your small frame.

"What can't be right?" you jumped at the intrusion of your reading, turning to find the King's right hand man; Charles Brandon. "Your grace." you stood bowing your head. He wore his typical black velvet uniform, his white under tunic barely showing and his matching black beret. A beautiful specimen with stunning blue green eyes that easily caught the attention and maidenheads of multiple women of the court. Daughters of dukes, wife's of kings easily swayed into his grasp. You were sure that his headboard was no more than a twig, the amount of notches riddled into it. "No need for formalities." he holds his hand up to ease you back into place. "Now what are we doing here?" he asks, taking a seat across from you. "A story among playing cards? Is that what you're doing?" he looks over your set of cards laid out.

"No, your grace, just showing possibilities. Our fates are ever changing. . " you explain, holding up the three cards you pulled. "An opportunity in love." you explain, to which Charles leans back, hitches a brow and laughs. "That would require you leaving your house and not nipping at More's heels." he jokes and you join him laughter. It was true. You never went anywhere besides court, the More's or your own little nest. Hell, this was the longest interaction you'd had with anyone outside of the More's, let alone talking to Charles Brandon. The two of you had only seen each other in passing. The Duke quietly watching you play with your deck of cards, idly following More to and fro the kingdom, watching you dull out fortunes to the ladies of the court and sometimes their husbands, giving them messages of love, and lost and warning them to take everything with a grain of salt because nothing was permanent. "Tell me young ward, what do the fates have in store for me?" he asks, swinging a leg over the table, taking up more space, and entering yours. "Let's see." you answer, averting your gaze before you pick up your deck and begin shuffling.

He watches you, your hand movements, how you cut the deck, how you shuffle. Your fingers dragging across the flimsy cards; they were obviously put through tremendous use, and very much loved. You spread the deck out, before turning back to Charles. "Pick three cards." you explain. The Duke looks at the splayed out deck, looking at one end, and then another, before pulling three cards. One from the end, one from the opposite and one from the middle. You unfold the cards revealing; The Tower. Your eyes widened, The Hanged man, and the King of Cups. "Oh. " you stared at your spread, causing the duke to lean in. "Out with it lad! What is it?!" he demanded, giving you a harsh pat on the back. "Right, right sorry." you clear your throat. "A sudden and abrupt change is coming. Something out of your control." you explain, holding up the Tower card, as means to get him to understand what each individual card meant. "It's going to trigger a transformation within yourself, something that needs to change in order to welcome the new you, a better you." You go in further, holding up the hanged man. "But, once you are through, you will reap the rewards." you finish, holding up the king of cups. Charles smiles, the same grin that had stolen so many hearts, and hymens. Emitting a chuckle and slapping his hand on the table. "Is this what you do all day?" he asks, his voice still shaking with laughter. You gingerly nod, before returning your deck of cards to your small wooden box and placing them in your satchel, as the Duke continues to laugh. "Small vague predictions, that debate our fates? Is this the new world everyone has been so scared of?" he continues removing himself from the table before stopping to regard you again. "What is your name?" he asks, bending from the hips to look at you better. It may have been the first time he had made direct and long standing eye contact with you. You felt like an insect under the scope of a magnifying glass. "Y/F/N" you inform him. Sure he had heard it before, but alas the title never stuck. "I'd be mindful if I were you, Y/F/N. You never know who could take this . . . game seriously." he warns, the end of his sentence stern and his brows turned down to give you a slightly more menacing look before he takes his leave, exiting down the stone corridor.

"Cunt." you utter under your breath when you're sure he's gone.

Charles approaches the king's throne, finding the rows of men parting the ways so the pathway to the throne remained clear as he made his way towards Henry, quickly bowing before his best friend and returning to standing at his side. Constant babble and hidden agendas in the guise of serenity between nations as Henry attempted to bring his own thoughts together. "More doesn't want to invade France." he explains under his breath, confiding to Charles. The Duke raises his brow and nods, "wise choice. . .what does his Majesty think?" he asks, leaning further in, watching the crowd of men spar with their words. "I think blood has been spilled, and blood needs to be paid, More thinks it'd be wise to avoid it. . ." Charles nods. "Indeed, speaking of More, I just ran into his ward." Henry then turns to regard his friend. "A small man? Good with his hands? About ye' high." he describes you to the best of his abilities to bemuse Henry, meeting him smirking. "And what of him?" "He told me my fortune." the two share a laugh.

The meeting adjourns and the two friends exit the chamber, further discussing as they make their way down the hall. "Do you believe in all that?" Charles asks, "Our fates laid out in a deck of cards?" "He's More's pupil, More believes you can find out your fate through the galaxies alignment of the stars, wouldn't surprise me if he partook too. What'd he tell you? What is destined for your fate?" Charles rolls his eyes, as the duo approaches the small dining hall, Henry, taking a seat at the head of the table. "That I'd be met with a great and destructive change, something out of my control, but I will come out the other end rewarded and a different man." Henry chuckles as Charles places a bottle of red wine in front of him along with two goblets. "The only difference I've seen in you Charles is the different women coming in and out of your bed." he jabs at his pal', Charles joining him in laughter. 

Thomas met up with you in the library. books, pages, splayed out on a large wooden desk. You were lost in your work when Thomas found you, sketching away at your small notebook, mumbling to yourself on a new theory that had plagued you in the night and would simply not leave your cranium. "How is the Goddess of Capriciousness?" he whispers in your ear, hand on shoulder. "More!" you jump as you are ripped from your thoughts. He looked at the books that sat on your table, opening one rather large leather strapped book without a title, only to find another inside. 'Egytoma in almagesti Ptolemei.'. Immediately shutting the two of them and promptly looking over his shoulder, and around before taking the seat next to you. "Your boldness is not wasted here Y/N, but carrying banned books in this time could-""Could what More? Is the pursuit of knowledge considered a sin now?" you ask, steadying your quill. "We could be on the brink of war, his majesty is paranoid enough as it is-" Thomas snaps at you. You look at him, not breaking eye contact. "How long will we be living in the old ways? For fear of a God that demands to be constantly worshiped?" you ask. "We can only advance by exploring the unknown Thomas-YOU taught me that." 

Thomas places a hand on your shoulder. "Little one, his majesty has been more than generous with us, giving you your own quarters, allowing you access to his library-" irritated at the situation you roll your eyes. "He expects us to dine with him later tonight." to which you fling yourself back in your chair. "There it is. . . you want me to behave myself at dinner." you say with a huff. "You made me to be your equal More. Why can I not converse with you and the others-""BECAUSE I CANNOT RISK YOUR COVER BEING BLOWN!" Thomas loses himself, slamming his hand on the table, causing it to rattle. "Lord Chancellor will be attending as well as his posy, and God knows whatever his agenda may be, you need to be aware that their are eyes and ears everywhere. Mind your tongue, and watch what you say. . ." Thomas warns. You know in your heart it is for the best. More had trained you, taught you, and done everything he could to keep your truth concealed from the prying eyes of the kingdom.

The day turned to dawn, you were prepped and primed for dinner, More going ahead of you to meet Henry to discuss further matters of the next move. Two heavy metal chamber sticks dawned with thick white candles, a lit fireplace illuminated the small dining room elegantly. King Henry at the end of the table in a more casual attire, a mere black tunic with a lighter shade of dark blue embroidery decorating the collar and torso. A chain decorated around his neck of silver and turquoise that complimented his stunning grey eyes. He was flanked on his left and right side, on his right his trusted advisor; Cardinal Wolsey, on his left More. Taking More's side you greeted your king with a bow waiting for him to sit as his party began to enter the room. Sir Anthony Knivert, William Compton and of course Charles Brandon. "Please. . " Henry gestured his hand forward before taking his seat at the head of the table. Dishes were placed across the table, though it seemed no one would be eating much as the men began to chew the fat, talking over each other seeming to attempt to bleed their own agendas into whatever discussion was taking place, you merely examining and watching. Cardinal Wolsey gave you the dreaded feeling of unease. He spoke with such conviction and charm it seemed he had enchanted all who were taken in by his conversation skills. Speaking of divine province, God's will and his immense knowledge of foreign policy. You didn't realize you were staring until he called you by name. "I hear, you are reading people's fortunes? Y/F/N?" he asks, pouring himself a glass of wine. "All in good fun!" More comes to your defense. Charles chuckles at the other end of the table, watching your face carefully." You do after all know it is only God who dictates us to do what we do. . " Wolsey explained, raising his brows as if to take a jab at you. Henry sat with his hand in his palm, leaning in as if the conversation had sparked his interest. "Is it so? Cardinal Wolsey?" you ask almost condescending. "It's God that commands the winds, the tides, the battles and the victories. But in that same breath my lord, if God is all then he also dictates the deaths, the still borns, the pain and the suffering." a hush falls over the table. "Is it God that's willing you to take in the libations? Or God who commands you to eat among kings? Or is it-" "THAT'S ENOUGH." Thomas shouts. Wolsey, sitting across the table looks a mix of wounded and infuriated. "Apologies my lords." Henry oddly enough looks as though he wishes for you to continue, curiosity burning within him, he had never seen the silver tongued Cardinal backed into such a corner. "What is your point Y/F/N? Other than making a mockery of yourself and ruining a fine dinner?" Wolsey asks, brows turned down. 

You stand up from your table setting, removing the cloth napkin in your lap. "My point is, Cardinal, is your God is either not all good, or not all powerful, and it is our right as humans to do and explore every aspect of what WE are capable of; if you will excuse me. . " you leave the table abruptly, "Your majesty." you bow again, hearing him laugh much to your surprise and also fear. Adrenaline rushing through you as you exited the dining room. "Your majesty please, please forgive him. He's still foolish and blind with pride." Henry laughs. He himself wondering what the mortal realm had in store for him. Between the pain carried in his leg, his wife no longer bleeding or producing a living male heir, he had the hardest time believing in anything. Wolsey merely there to offer answers but no solutions, he waved his hand at Thomas More, gesturing for him to return to his seat. "Please, it's about time we livened up the conversations don't you agree?" he laughs, and the rest of the room follows. But not Wolsey. The cardinal sat for the rest of the evening drinking as the nights festivities wrapped up, he caught the arm of Charles before the Duke left. "Find Y/F/N." the cardinal whispers, his breath heavy with alcohol, causing Charles to recoil into himself at the stink of his breath. "Why would I do that-""He may bare the mark of Cain-a witch's mark." Wolsey's words slurred into one another and he has to hang onto Charles shoulder for support. "It is in the king's best interest that he knows the company he keeps." Wolsey attempts to explain. "Go now, and report back to me."

Charles looked at the drunken Cardinal, given his reputation and his clutches in the king, he had no choice but to relent. Taking his horse, and following the beaten path, finding you walking a mere halfway down the road. Your feet ached, you were all but slumped over. Hiccuping from the nights libations and wondering how and why life got so complicated. "Y/F/N!" Charles cried out, him steadily bouncing on his horse as it carried speed before abruptly stopping to a soft trot. "Your grace." you speak attempting to hide your absolute distaste and pain in your feet. "That was quite a display you put on back there, mouthing off to a Cardinal. . ." Charles speaks, holding the reins of his horse looking forward. "Well, you can't throw stones in glass houses. The atrocities the church has done under the pretenses of a false martyr for the name of supposed glory has done more damage than someone believing in a different source of divinity." you quip. Charles tilts his head and smirks. " I succumb to the passion of my colleague." he admits. "Would you like to join us for play tomorrow?" you turn to Charles and stop in your steps. "I do beg your pardon?" you ask, not sure exactly what 'play' entails for the group of men other than swapping venereal diseases. "Tennis, in the court. The king and I would love if you partook, passion is good, gets the blood pumping." you roll your eyes. "And who would I be to turn down such an offer from the king." you hide your satirical tone, beginning to falter as the a blister begins forming on your heel. "Where- where is your horse Y/F/N?" Charles finally asked, watching you begin to hide the beginning of a limp. "Don't have one your grace, I'm but a scholar, and More's ward. No real need for a beast if I don't have the means to care for it." you answer, now placing your weight on your toes so you may continue to walk. Charles dismounts gesturing for you to take join him on saddle. "Your grace can't be serious. . " you laugh at the end of your sentence. "You can't play tomorrow if you have blisters." Charles hitches his head to the side. A ride, for a game. You sigh, placing your foot in Charles hand hitching your leg over the saddle before quickly being joined with Charles sitting in front of you. Hanging onto his shoulders as he kicked the beasts sides you attempted to get in a position that was both comfortable but also had a degree of separation from the larger man sitting in front of you.

The trail was quiet and as you traveled the path the sun disappeared behind the trees dimming all light. "You walk this every morning?" Charles asks, looking over his shoulder. "Every morning." you explain. As you continued down the road, the horse began picking up speed much to your dismay and instinctively clung to Charles torso underneath his arms causing the Duke to squirm underneath your touch. "Apologies." you answered. Your fear getting the best of you and placing your hands back on his shoulders. Coming along the gates of your home you quickly dismounted checking your bag, and pockets to make sure you had indeed kept everything on you. "So the morning then, I will come to escort you." Charles responds, looking down at you. You fidgeted under his gaze, attempting to piece together exactly what he was trying to figure out. Everything and everyone had an agenda in this world. More taught you that, and the hungry, brutal men that Henry kept in his company were the top dogs, splaying their plans out brutally, honestly and with no remorse or regret for anyone or anything. Before you could answer Charles answered his own question. "Tomorrow then!" and kicked his heels to his horses sides, leaving you standing at your house door. Left to figure out exactly how you were going to tell More the mess you were currently in, and more importantly how you were going to get through tomorrow.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hopefully this is the chapter where things pick up :D

You rose an hour earlier than usual. You were lethargic, and the soles of your feet already ached from yesterday's venture, however you had no desire to get ready in the king's quarters along with the rest of his party. You woke up already agitated and annoyed at the days set up. After washing, you put on your long white stockings underneath your trousers. Just as you finished your binds, a soft knock at your door caused you to freeze. "Y/N. . It's me." Thomas More called from the other side of the door in an almost hushed yell and you stumbled to the door, as you struggled to put on your under tunic, opening the door with a quickness. "Good morning." you greet him to your humble home. "What brings you so early? I apologize for seeming rather rushed however I'm expected else where this morning" you inform him, running back into your room to continue getting ready, your hair getting in your face as you ransacked your bed chamber looking for extra stockings. No doubt your feet will be killing you by the end of the day. "To a tennis match with the king and his colleagues, I heard." More speaks from the other side of your bedroom door. You rolled your eyes so hard you could almost feel your corneas scraping your brain. This was not something you wanted to actually do. You didn't want to be around the brooding men with loud voices and bulky hands yelling as they beat a ball made out of cork back and forth across the court making obnoxious noises. Partly for sport but knowing Henry and his friends, they did it for the minor glory of the crowd cheering them on.

"You need to be more careful, Y/N!" Thomas chided you. It was something expected seeing as you lashed out at the King's most trusted advisor and a Cardinal at that. "You count your blessings at how lucky you are the king found your little tirade amusing instead of the usual repulsive. You know he hates having his intellect challenged! Let alone the word of God!" Putting on your undershirt and then a long sleeve tunic. Thomas looked you up and down, pretty little thing. Your wide eyes and round face would cause any man to buckle at the knees; however your feminine charms had to be hidden in your moxie, and brutal cut throat attitude. In order to pass as a man, you had to act like a man. Your appearance was more questioning given the length of your hair which you made no real attempt to hide. Men of the court and royals did have long hair, the King of France proudly wore his locks and for you it was merely a show of your health. The sheer audacity you had kept most if any questioning people at bay because who dared challenge the intellect and nerve. . of a man. "Make sure you mind yourself, these men get ruthless in their sports." he explains, fixing the ties of your shirt. Your black shorts underneath almost disappearing under the white flowing top before you quickly tucked it in. "Yes More." you agree as he continued his lecture. "And for God's sake, for MY sake, WATCH YOUR TONGUE." More pleads with you, as you make a scrunched face imitating your makeshift father as he shook his head at you. 

Another soft knock from the front door came, and as it slowly opened Charles Brandon popped his head in, removing his hat upon entry. "Your grace." you dip your head, More gives a slight nod to the Duke. "You're . . . you're already dressed?" Charles asked, turning his brows down and giving you a questionable look. "Surely you aren't shy to change at the palace? We've all seen guts and guile." Charles and More share a laugh at his innuendo. "No, but I may have forgotten you were coming this morning my lord. Let alone wanted to walk carrying my day clothes." you quickly respond.

Upon your arrival at the tennis court, you were surprised to find an array of ladies and lords alike on the other side of a tethered black fence as means to separate the sport from the crowd. As the party commenced, squaring off on opposite ends, you and Charles on one, the King, and Sir Anthony Knivert on the other. You could easily hear the hushed whispers and the giggling girls as they pondered and remarked on the Dukes good looks and your lack of physical stature. Which, there was really no way around it, you looked down right puny compared to the company you kept. A mouse among giants. "How old are you Y/F/N?" Charles asked as he served the ball. "I'll be 26, come summer." Charles hits Henry's return, only for it to be swatted back at him, which you managed to your surprise, to hit. 

"26, and not yet have a wife or child?" Charles comments, moving quickly across the court to hit Anthony's serve. "Yes well, age doesn't necessarily mean maturity your grace." you smirked. The tongue in cheek comment almost made you have to pacify yourself from emitting a slight laugh. "Yes, well . . . " you interrupted. "I don't feel the need to be bound to anyone in anyway." you continued. "A pity, you've certainly caught the eye of the fairer sex very well when you manage to climb out of your cave." Charles commented, gesturing over his shoulder at the gossiping flock of young women staring in your direction before dissipating in a sea of squeals and laughter. " A shame really, once they find me boring, they'd leave me for someone with a title." 

The game commenced and it became more and more difficult for you catch yourself between rounds,attempts to catch your breath becoming more and more difficult as your heart started a riot in your rib cage. Lung expansion, there was none. Nearly fainting as the game wrapped up, Love-40, you gave King Henry a run for his money. Through out the mach you couldn't help but feel Charles wondering eye watching your form, how your fingers unfolded as you served the ball, the extension of your arm, the way your hair fell and rose as you jumped and ran. Not yet finding what he was looking for, you on more than one occasion returned his stare with a harsh glare to promptly out of his somewhat hypnotized gaze that was fixed on your small frame. If you had a mark, it had to be somewhere else.

In the end, you concluded it was easy to see why Henry and Charles got along famously, despite the difference in class, Charles never backed down from a King's challenge and truly gave it his all despite the obvious divide. The duke placed an arm over your shoulder and brought you in for a side hug, congratulating you on your sportsmanship. "Alright young Y/F/N, to the victor go the spoils!" he cheers you as you disappear down the hallway, stopping before you entered the latrine "Gentlemen, this is where I take my leave." you announce.

Charles stops to regard you "Surely you can't be serious! We have a whole day planned!" he idly shakes your shoulders. His attempts to get closer to you only made you further fold into yourself. "Yes, well. Unfortunately I only came for a quick game." you explain, swinging your arm over Charles to break his grasp on you. "Well then, can I express my gratitude by extending an invitation to ride back with you." "I'm afraid your grace doesn't very much have a choice if you want your horse back." you teased, much to the laughter of Henry and Anthony as you made your exit, being followed quickly by Charles who caught up with you in a mere few strides. As the two of you walked along the dirt road, you sat quietly , feeling Charles eyes on you almost the entire time. "What is it your grace?" you asked, eyeing him from your peripheral vision. Was your wrap slipping? Had he suspected something? "I'm trying to find your vice." Charles confessed, causing you to pause and give him a once over. "You study, you work, you write. I've never known a man that committed without a vice. So what is it?" he asks, in attempt to keep the tone casual. "Work is my vice." you explain. "Right, and have you known the touch of a woman? Or do you prefer a more. . .hardy company?" he teased smacking your bicep. " No your grace, unlike you my touch is much clumsier, and I'm afraid I'm too stiff for pleasures of the flesh." you relented. You could feel Charles roll his eyes. You're holier than thou routine was irritating the lecherous lord. There had to be some outlet to the silver tongue pupil that road at his side. Remembering his mission to discover the some sort of disfigurement or mark, he continued to press you. "Well, can I extend an invitation to my manor for the weekend? A stay in my company may loosen your belt a bit." he looked to catch your eyesight, making direct eye contact and giving you that same smile that caused the maids to swoon and the contracts to be signed. His fanged tooth peaking out from his bottom lip, a pray tell of things to come perhaps. "And what if I don't want my belt loosened your grace?" you ask. "Then I will have to badger you further-Oh' come on! You want knowledge of all their is in the world, wouldn't you want to perceive life in a new light? See how the lords and libertines kick their socks off? Explore beyond your scope Y/F/N!" 

\- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - 

"No."  


"But More."  


"No,"  


"More!"  
"NO, NO, NO. You know not what you are doing!" More slammed both palms open on your desk, causing pens and quills to fly off in every direction. "You, ignorant child! Might as well grease yourself up before you feed yourself to the wolves!" He screams mere inches from your face. "Well FUCK, what'd you expect?!" you retaliate. "How long am I going to go about living here? Like this? How long can I hide?!" you shout back. Thomas recoiled at your words. He knew you were right. You couldn't necessarily continue living in the same area much longer, was he expecting you to hid off in a cottage in the middle of nowhere on the country side? Retire with your only living friend being the man who raised you? What company would you keep? "The closer we are, the more likely I am to pass. . . befriend your enemies, so you may later crush them, if not outlive them, AT THE VERY LEAST." you pleaded, hands open. "you hid my identity to so that I may have freedom, you cannot put me on a leash to sniff and go where you choose." More sighed, brushing his hand through his hair. He knew this day would come, when you no longer could occupy your time with the mere pages of a book. Lost in whatever adventures had been scribbled out on the page, it didn't take long for More to relent and upon the evening you were due for Charles Brandon's manor helped you spend Friday evening prepping for any and all sort of situation that may come up. Packing clothes, linen, and stockings, you fear you may have over done it for when Thomas attempted to lift your bag over his shoulder, he couldn't help but stumble backwards at the weight of it. 

Agreeing to accompany you to Charles house, and even taking the liberty of joining the two of you for dinner. On the carriage ride over Thomas quizzed you on topics to avoid, the ones to indulge and how to get yourself out of what he'd call a conversational stalemate. "Make sure he leaves the table before you." "Wait why would..""I'm not leaving until he's retired." Thomas assured as you approached the front gate. The Hall of Westhorpe was large, attached to a chapel with cloisters that showed a large stained glass window. You were busy ogling the architecture as Thomas continued "Don't trust the help, they are his employees, not your friends." He lectures you, before as if changing masks, he switches his tone as soon as the carriage door opens. Thomas takes the lead, you following in tale. 

Charles greeted you the two of you with open arms, embracing Thomas warmly. "How are you?" he asks holding your scholar. "Very well, very well. It seems you've taken a keen interest in my pupil." Thomas extends his hand to you to exaggerate his point, at which Charles embraces you rather quickly. You are taken back and at the massive height difference, your arms sloped over his shoulders and he had to bend over to full grab you. Attempting to relax under his touch, you were frigid and stiff in his arms. "A rather small pupil." he teases as he releases his grasp on you. Thomas unconsciously holding his breath the entire time, wide eyed and gritting his teeth to avoid biting his tongue. The three of you commenced sitting at different ends of the dining room table, you watched as servers poured in, placing grandiose dishes on the large table. A red runner across the table, and windows in every wall that surrounded the dining area and hall. You were impressed, a large house for a single man and his help-or rather what ever company he was keeping at the time. "Wine." Charles offered, an uncorked bottle, offering to pour for you in a silver goblet. "I don't partake." you looked over at Thomas, this gesture was not lost on Charles who poured anyways. "Oh come now, I thought you came here to find your vices not shun them." Charles removes himself from his seat and makes his way over to you , placing the cup in front of you. You look over at Thomas.

"Oh, let the lad live! You remember your youth don't you Thomas?" Charles teases him and you can't help but laugh. Thomas however being one to live for others, he had been so torn between either becoming a monk or a civil servant, at one point ready to surrender everything in order to get closer to divinity. You couldn't recall loving or wanting anything that much. You sipped wine slowly, allowing the two older gents to commence a discussion in front of you, of war and politics, something that easily bored you. The mechanics of battle held little to no interest for you and the petty squabbles of men would never call for your attention. "Y/F/N. . . you're being so quiet" Charles quips before pouring you another glass of wine, at which Thomas subtly slumps into his chair feeling defeated. "I'm merely witnessing the discussions at hand my Lord." you explain, your mouth disappearing into your cup. The drink painting your cheeks a beautiful coral, and Charles watches your frame as you begin to relax in your chair. "Tell me Y/F/N, what is your philosophy of life? No vices, no parties no women, just work. Twiddling away in books." he teases you. You paused for a moment, carefully picking out your words so as not to offend the duke but at the same time not surrender your values. "I believe that it is responsibility that makes life worth living, your grace." Charles tilts his head, signaling for you to continue. " Yes the pursuit of pleasure and vices is lovely and distracting, but beauty when attached to nothing, its meaningless." you gulp down your wine. Charles had a shine in his eyes as he watched you finish your drink. He watched as the corners of your mouth and lips stained red, and in that something stirred in him. The familiar feeling of lust burning in his loins. The want of capturing those lips, chewing them under his incisors and for that he felt horrible uncomfortable. The attraction to the male scholar, he had to pause and mentally compose himself, before another thought flashed his mind as he looked at your small dexterous fingers place your chalice back down on the table. He wanted your hands in his hair, your knuckles in his mouth. He physically recoiled in his chair causing the heavy wooden legs to scrape on the floor when he slightly jerked to pull himself back to reality."Your grace?" you asked, jumping up from your seat and reaching out as if you could save him from his thoughts. "Are you alright?" Thomas asked, also leaning in. Charles flared his nostrils, inhaled deeply before smiling and regaining his physical composure. "Yes, yes the wine. . .got to me." he lies. "And with that. . " Charles backed his chair up, prepared to leave the table. "I will be retiring for the night."

Charles exits the room so quickly, you can't help but notice the speed at which his heels hit the hard tile floors, to the point the house echoed with every click of the heel of his boots. Thomas sighing, content also backed out of his chair, standing up and going to you as servers began to clear the table. You meet him standing and he carefully places a hand on your shoulder, leaning in. "Remember what I told you, Y/F/N." he whispers before he too leaves.

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Charles tossed and turned into the later hours of the night. Ruminating over and over the thoughts that grew more and more vulgar as he kept attending to them, and caused him to break into a cold sweat. What had he done? What magic was this? What curse was this? He replayed what Wolsey warned about him over again, it was witchcraft or sorcery, alchemy something that caused this burning in his veins, this fire under his skin. Completely vexed by you, your words and mannerisms. Disturbed by how despite seeing another man this way, Charles wasn't disgusted with himself, more so scared of himself. What was he doing? Since when did he decide to be another pawn on Wolsey's chest board? What evil had he unleashed within his house? He looked out his window from his bed, watching as the darkness of night faded into the burning daylight of morning. His under eyes puffy, and a brooding headache from the base of his skull that radiate behind his eyes. "What have I gotten myself into?" he ran his hands over his face and head before collapsing again onto his bed. 

Down the hallway in your room, you did your best to stifle a building sob. You leaned over your white bed sheets trying to steady your breathing of an oncoming panic attack as you tried to hold your midsection and rock yourself into a calmer state. "It's alright, it's alright, it's alright." you tried to explain to yourself, brushing your long locks out of your face as your looked down. . at the blood stained sheet in front of you. "God. . .DAMN IT."


	3. Chapter 3

You quickly unfolded your blankets, promptly making your bed to cover the cloud of blood that sat promptly in the middle of the enormous bed. How could you have miscalculated like this? What triggered your period to come early? Stress? YES! Of course! Stupid More, with his constant lectures and restricting you, and Brandon, good lord if one didn't know better you would think the duke were trying to court you. You walked to and fro in your massive room. Wiping your eyes as tears streamed down your face. "Ok, it's ok, I'm ok." you whisper to yourself. You knew the routine you'd gone by, and today you would not allow it to be any different. Sure you had your cycle, the only difference was, you weren't at home, it was no big deal, you knew the protocol. Quickly plugging your menses with a bit of extra material you had packed specifically for binding, however in this case you believed you had more pressing matters to attend to .You begin your routine as usual, as if nothing has gone off without a hitch. Using the basin to wash your face, and fix your hair and clean your legs of the dried blood that had left between your thighs and mound. You oddly enough sat on the side of the bed that wasn't immedietly on the end of the door a paranoid precaution. The possibilities rattled your brain and left you with infinite ways for how wrong this visit could go. Quickly binding your breasts before putting on your undershirt and tunic. 

Fixing your hair, and looking into the mirror that was dawned on the vanity of the guest bedroom to make sure everything was in place just so. You looked correct, prompt, clean cut like you usually did, however your eyes were completely swollen and puffy. "For God's sake." you whisper tapping your ring fingers under your eyes to catch newly fallen tears. A soft knock on the door came "Y/F/N?" Charles; followed by him jimmying the lock on the door. "Are you presentable? Breakfast is ready!" quickly going and answering the door, Charles looked clear above your head before lowering his gaze to find you. "Yes, I'll be there right now." you answer, wiping your nose with the back of your hand. "What are you- you alright?" he asked, clearly seeing the aftermath of the morning's panic attack on your face.

"Fine, fine, are-are YOU okay?" you asked, finally getting a good look at him. His lids were heavy and dark circles were starting to crack under his eyes."Yes, just trouble finding sleep. ." he explains pinching the bridge of his nose and scrunching his face, "I'll uh- I'll meet you at- over there, I'll meet you at breakfast!" he stammers before walking away.

This was possibly the most lavish lay out you had ever seen. Sausage, eggs, bread, oats. You'd only been too happy to start your standard morning with some bread and milk maybe even an apple. "Don't let Wolsey see this." you tease, unfolding a cotton napkin in your lap. Charles froze at those words, before a small smile and nodding. "He may find this lay out gluttonous.." Charles commented, helping himself to a generous amount of oats, before pausing. "Do you partake in morning prayer?" he asks, at which you raise a brow. He watched your movements, as you looked up attempting to gather your thoughts in order to find the words " I normally don't, but if you'd like I'll participate, however I feel as though that may be sacrilege." Charles eyes knitted together, not one for prayer himself. He threw out most of his beliefs in the higher good a long time ago. Nothing held sacred to him, and he would never speak it out loud but in all his years in all his battles, in all his wives, he had yet to meet a devil or a god that would save or condemn him. He knew nothing of divinity or miracles and was always speculating whether or not there was anything in the world that would change his mind.

"I won't tell if you don't." you teased, helping yourself to spoonful of oatmeal. Charles watched as the spoon disappeared in your mouth and smiled. "Deal." before he finally started eating his breakfast. "Tell me your grace, what robbed you of your slumber?" you ask. The duke hesitated for a second. "Bad dreams, I kept waking up." he was short. "And what have you planned for us today? What do nobles do in a day?" you pry further, in an attempt to change the subject. "Well, after breakfast, I'd like to show you around my home, the land, the house, the library?" he tipped his glass to you at the end of his sentence and you nearly choked. "You. . have a library?" 

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The weekend went surprisingly well, despite circumstances. Much to your surprise Charles was incredibly well read, intelligent and had vast knowledge of the battlefield strategies and the art of war. You shared your knowledge of the stars and the advancement of science in the progressing world. He became fascinated with your array of differing subjects, you even went as far as going into astrology and gave him multiple readings and taught him the differences in the major Arcana of your tarot deck. Charles surprisingly, found himself having onto your every word. Watching your face light up as you talked about the differing subjects, how you would get up and walk around when explaining something especially interesting and explained it in such a way that he would retain the information. You rarely talked about yourself or others more so the differing subjects of your studies, your latest theories that you had yet to divulge with even Thomas, and Charles told you his doubts of his position of duke being as the company he kept saw him for the most part as their lesser, his concern and desperate attempts for a quiet mind. 

Now it was Sunday night and you two were kept in due to rain. "Do you believe there is a plan for it all? That your maps of stars and planets cause it all?" He asked, sitting next to you in his study, the quiet patter of rain hitting his stained glass windows, the light from the fire illuminating the shadows on his face make him that much more dazzling. "I think. .that there is a plan in place, if we want there to be." he gave you a questioning look. "Astrology is a map, not a cause Charles." you explain further by standing up and examining the room before grabbing a lonesome book tossed to the side and handling it, thumbing through a few pages before holding it flat. "I want to drop this book." you then immedietly drop the book. "Do you see? It happened because I WANTED it to happen so much that I CHOSE to make it happen, the same way I can say I WANT to drink some wine, and I'm going to make you RETRIEVE ME A BOTTLE OF WINE." Charles broke into a smile and then a chuckle before disappearing only to reappear with two glasses and an uncorked bottle. "Monsieur" he places the glass in your hand before giving you a hefty pour. 

"You see Charles, I believe life has meaning because we give it meaning." you took another sip "The more we try to be better than one another, the more we are separated. And I don't believe that whatever divinity is in charge of this world, wouldn't like that." you whispered the last part. Charles watched you speak with such conviction and the uneasy feeling returned. The burning ache in his loins, and he wasn't aware of how close he had leaned in until you leaned back into your chair returning his stare, making him retreat. "So tell me why has More kept you to himself? Locked away with your head in the books. . enjoying little to no fruits of your labor?" he mentally kicked himself. Way to be a mood killer, reminding a pet it had to return to cage. But it was also in an attempt for him to turn back his thought, his ultimate goal. He needed to find that mark. Wolsey accursed agenda burrowed deep into his cranium, constantly attaching itself to the thought of you. He hated it. 

"Ideas can get you killed." you stated simply. "How often do men try to destroy what they can't understand? I don't know how to fight, I can't fence, I' can't hold a lance without tipping over-I'm not meant for a regiment, I. . I cannot live with someone telling me what to do, what to think or what to feel." you took another sip of your wine. Charles wasn't conscious of it but before he knew it, he was reaching out, cupping the lip of the glass with his hand and slowly removing it from your grasp, placing it on the side table. The motion caused you to pause. Have you gave too much away? Could he see through your disguise? DID HE FIND THE BED SHEETS YOU STUFFED INTO YOUR LUGGAGE? Charles could physically see you thinking, he reached over placing a thumb over your chin, softly brushing the corners of your lips free of drops of wine. He was getting closer before- "Charles what are you doing?" you broke him free of the stream of unconsciousness. He cleared his throat immedietly withdrew his hand and returned to leaning back in his seat. "Wine get to your head?" you attempt to lighten the mood much to Charles absolute delight as he laughed off his clear embarrassment. "I think I'll be retiring for the night. Thank you Charles, truly for everything." you say giving him a friendly pat on the back before making your leave. 

The morning came, and Thomas was there bright and early, carriage waiting at the end of the front entrance. You had packed your bloody bed sheets into your luggage, doing your best to cover whatever mess you had left, hoping no red evidence left to find. 

As you and More made your leave, Charles watched as the carriage shrink from his eyesight as you left from his home and his sight. He sat, legs spread and thumb in his mouth. What was he going to do? How? He'd failed trying to find the supposed 'mark', or 'mole' what did Wolsey expect him to do? Upon spending the weekend with you, he had become completely enamored with you. The way you talked, your walk, your hands. How small your hands were that often at times, you'd grab mugs with both hands. Your passion, your eagerness to listen and learn, upon him showing you his library you all but had a coronary. Easily tucking yourself in a book, you consumed knowledge like a starving man consumed bread. You listened to him, really listened to him instead of just watching his pretty face as you waited for your turn to talk. You heard his words, sympathized and would even go as far as asking questions because you were actually curious. He felt he had not only found a friend but someone who saw him, an incredibly high sense of openness that allowed him to be himself instead of the ego and charismatic man that charmed the ladies in waiting and was the cause of envy and fear in their husbands. "God damn it. . " Charles whispered to himself, leaning his elbows onto the insides of his thighs. "Your grace?" the small meek sound of the elderly housekeeper came from the doorway. "Yes Madeline?" he responded, clearly annoyed. "Sorry to interrupt, I can't find the bed sheets for the guest room, and I need more vegetable oil if you want me getting those stains out of the comforter." "I'm sorry what?"

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For the next two weeks Charles followed you around the court like a puppy dog. Often at times missing meetings, and council with Henry, much to the latter's dismay. This new found affection was not lost on Henry or his party. Anthony and William taking the liberty to tease Charles openly. "Tell me, do you now prefer hunting Charles?" Anthony jabbed at the duke. Henry and the trio joined in laughter and Charles shrugged them off. Keeping his means secret, he knew speaking of Wolsey's task would only make the target on your back more prominent, surely More would find out and all hell would break lose. Being the King's almoner was similar to being the neck that controls the head. Deciding which direction needed to be seen, and what matters needed to be looked at. Charles hated it, and if he was brave enough to admit it, he would confess to the king his thoughts of the cardinal having a little too much influence over matters that did not even pertain to the church. What business did God have in government affairs anyways? Sitting across from his friends as the three of them drank and made merry. Charles could've been on the other side of the world, how lonely he felt. Shallow conversations that had no basis in reality, the girls, the money, the glory. Nothing seemed to be grounded in reality anymore. And you ran through his mind constantly, never ending. Eventually it got to a point where in the short moments where Charles would catch sleep he'd hear your voice or see you behind the lids of his eyes. Now the night was closing in, and the fire was slowly going out into glowing embers and Charles mind was full. Impulsively, he removed himself from his chair, grabbed his cloak and headed out the door. 

Relentlessly kicking the sides of his stead, his horses hooves beat the dirt path that lead up to your home, the vine covered rooftop of your humble abode growing bigger and bigger in his eye sight as he came closer and closer. He took a careful look outside, watching as the shrubbery clung to the sides of the house, your laundry strung up from one end of the front yard to the other-were those his bed sheets?

You sat cross legged at your desk, legs resting on the edge as you thumbed through the pages of a book More had allow you to bother, when you heard the thundering of horse hooves beating against the dirt path that lead to your home. Standing quickly to look out the window only for your attention to be stolen by a loud banging on the door. Opening it to find Charles on the other side, "Charles. ." you barely got a word in before the mountain of a man stormed into your home, clipping your shoulder as he made his abrupt and uninvited entry into your home. "Excuse me, hello?!" you shouted irritated at this invasion of your privacy. Charles looked around your home, really looked. Papers and books sprawled out, stockings soaking in a hot tub of water beside your desk. The soft drip of your clothes drying in your bathroom along with the crackle of the fireplace were the soundtrack to your home invasion. "Charles what do you think you're doing?!" you asked. His silence signaled to you that something was wrong as he merely glared down at you, nostrils flared and beads of sweat began forming along his jawline and forehead. "Hey . . " your tone grown soft with concern. His eyes once so magnetic were cold, steely. You shuddered under his harsh gaze. "Charles-" "You're being investigated by Cardinal Thomas Wolsey under the suspicion of witchcraft and blasphemy." his tone cold, his words sharp and uncaring of the destruction they had unleashed upon you. The blood drained from your face, wide eyed and paralyzed. He watched as your demeanor changed, and your shoulders folded over and your head down in your hands. "You've been . . .you've been investigating me?" you ask, another wave hit you, not of fear but pain, a betrayal. "My findings have been inconclusive thus far-" he explains, looking behind him to find your desk chair. 

Rubbing his hands together, in clenching his jaw, he watched as you trembled. The look he was giving you raised the hair on the back of your neck. Charles spoke through gritted teeth, as if the words pained him to say them. "Strip."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies, I know this isn't written in the best way but I'm really trying to get the story going without dragging it out. Also I didn't proof read this so.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Beginning is a little rough, be mindful while reading. It's also a shorter chapter. Also shout out to @Khanys for helping me with figuring out terminology and literally every other thing. Saving my google searches T_T cause I don't know what I'm doing, so this chapter is a little shorter than I'd like.

Fingers found their way around the collar of your shirt. This was it, the day you feared the most, the day when your secret would finally bubble to the surface and disrupt your life. "Charles . . ." you whisper, your voice shaking, cracking to stifle a sob that was sure to find its way out. "You have. . you have no evidence." you explain in a slow and calm way, but as soon as the words escape your mouth Charles springs from his chair so fast, it tips and falls over behind him. You grunt as he abruptly grabs your shoulders shaking you. His face mere inches from yours. You could taste the tang of the wine he had prior to coming here. The heat of his breath hitting your lips, causing a slight pool of desire to form in your nether regions. What was this? "You're in my mind! I cannot sleep, I cannot eat, I'm thinking of you. You, you in all hours of the night! What is that if not witchcraft?! Have you enchanted me to dis-sway me from my duties to the king?! NOW OFF WITH IT!" He tugs at the laced collar of your tunic hard enough to rip it, revealing your undershirt. "Charles. . .please." eyes watering as you plead to keep some semblance of sanity. "You don't know what your asking me. . " you sob, attempting to guard yourself by crossing your arms over your chest. "I'm not asking." he retorts, eyes burrowing deeply into yours, his tone sending a chill down your spine, causing your nipples to harden. You dart your eyes down to the floor, looking for something, anything, something to ground you in the quake of this panic. Finding a stocking, lead your eyes to the pot of now lukewarm water.

Bending over, slowly ever so slowly getting closer to the small tub, you reached for your boots taking on off. Charles took the liberty of watching, seeing the remaining three stockings you hand seemingly fold out, giving you a questioning look. Now leaning over your heel to undo the other one, slowly very slowly crouched so that you were balanced, your fingers etched closer to the tub until you grabbed the rim of the container and promptly flung it at Charles cranium, before making a mad dash to your bedroom, with the duke right on your heels. Slamming the door on him and attempting to bolt it as he continued to ram his shoulder into the wooden door, causing the hinges to creak with the force. Your shaking hands continuing to fumble as you finally got the lock in place. "Your grace I'm begging you please!" you beg knowing the door wasn't going to hold long. He replied merely with his grunts and epic force of the brute strength as with every blow the metal bolts holding the door in place began to lose and slowly the clink of them hitting the hard floor was the soundtrack of your demise. Looking around the room before making a dash to the window, you quickly stopped yourself from full on leaping out. Where would you go? In putting yourself into the world, exposed, vulnerable and hiding secrets from the church and the king himself you were without a country. No doubt Charles would either catch you, or merely report back and it'd only be a matter of days before you and Thomas were hung from the gallows. 

Tugging the curtain, you flung it out the open window as the grunts and loud banging of Charles still ramming the door echoed in your ears, mimicking your heartbeat that was picking up pace. You then quickly and quietly crawled under your wooden bed frame. A hand over your heartbeat as you attempted to calm your breath. And then it happened. Two final screws holding the door in place collapsed with a thunk and you place a hand over your mouth to hide a whimper that was slowly creeping up. Tears forming in the corners of your eyes as you tried your hardest to be quiet. Hearing the click of Charles boots, your eyes widened as he quickly made way to the window before slamming his fist against the wall, frustrated, angry. As he made his way out of the room, you slowly exhaled, hearing his footsteps grow further and further. You placed a hand over your heart and let out a low exhale. "You're okay, you're okay you're-NO, NO" a hand reached under a bed and grabbing you by your bicep you were pulled out from your makeshift sanctuary and tossed promptly on your bed, landing on your stomach. "Charles CHARLES PLEASE!!" You couldn't see it, but your pleas pained him. He had hoped it wouldn't come down to this. Him straddling your lower back as he ripped your outfit to shreds. 

The hem of your pants quickly meeting his fingers as he promptly yanked them down despite your thrashing and kicking. He had hoped. . he'd prayed you simply comply and he'd find nothing out of the ordinary and the two of you could laugh it off over a drink, he prayed that everything would go back to normal and you two could possibly be friends. Not anymore. Not after this. You bare backside bucked against Charles groin emitting an unwanted growl to escape his lips as the crook of your ass brushed against his groin. Your body betrayed your mind as the hair on your arms and legs raised at this abrasive invasion of not only privacy but personal space.The remainder of your shirt gave little to no resistance as it quickly tore at a vicious tug of his hands. Your under tunic torn right down the middle. But your bindings, he paused. Had you been injured? Is that where you were hiding the supposed 'mark of Cain' Wolsey had so diligently reminded him to look for? Grasping at the material, he tore them one by one eliciting a cry from you that sounded like a wounded animal. It felt like skinning a live rabbit, Charles didn't realize he had tears in his eyes until he saw them fall on your now bare back. Removing his weight from you, he stood up and grasping your shoulder rolled you on your back. The reaction on his face was a mix of confusion, guilt, and shock. Absolute shock. Adrenaline still running through is veins, pieces of linens still stuck in between his fingers. 

Your form laying bruised, slight scratch marks told the story of how hard you had fought him. Your eyes absolutely blood shot and tears streamed down your face. Your hair clung to your face and perspiration gave you a sort of glow. Your breasts falling and rising with every sob and cry. The low burning sensation coursing through your veins as you were there before him. As vulnerable as you had ever been, and being seen for the first time in your true form, for what you really were; a woman. Charles eyes were wide, his nostrils flaring and his stomach turning into knots. A woman? There was no witchcraft, no enchantment or spells. Charles swallowed the bile that had worked its way up his esophagus, and turning away absolutely disgusted with his actions. You curled into a ball on the bed, continuing to cry into the sheets that had disarrayed in the struggle.

"I'm sorry" he whispered, barely audible, taking two steps towards you "Get out." you return. "Y/F/N, I'm sorry. . I-" "GET OUT" you begin to yell, wrapping a sheet around you and grabbing a glass jar of ink that sat at your bedside table, flinging it at the duke, hearing it break against his already battered shoulder as he attempted to protect his head, he retreated, still attempting to make amends. "GET OUT! GET THE FUCK OUT!" you were on a rampage, now standing, grabbing whatever you could get your hands on. Books, cookware, shoes, all of which Charles attempted to duck and doge as you forced him out of your house. "GET OUT! GET OUuut ah-HA." you no longer held back your tears, your rage. As Charles continued to try to explain himself as he backed out of your front door. You bolted and locked it, collapsing as soon as he was fully out of your home. You laid on the floor, sobbing uncontrollably. It was over, it was all over. 

Charles stood outside, trembling. Looking down at the palms of his fingers, he still hand pieces of your wrap clinging to his sweaty palms and before he could help it, he had his hands on his knees and proceeded to vomit. Listening to your cries of fear, defeat and anguish, he felt absolutely disgusted and the creeping heavy weight of shame made it's way into his chest.

You didn't leave your home for three days, each of which Thomas stopped by to visit however you had remained stagnant, not opening your door, and pretending not to be home. Silently attempting to put the shattered remains of your reality back into place as the world continued turning outside. One the fourth day Thomas decided he had enough and decided to investigate further into your absence by attending court. Attending council with Henry, the same babble bullshit that commenced upon the regular daily basis, Thomas could see in Henry's eyes his distaste and lack of interest in the forming pressing manors and decided in that, he had no idea what had happened to you, but upon seeing Charles, sporting what appeared to be a bruise in its late stages of healing, not only that, the tall duke was clouded with worry, lost in thought, so much so that he was not even responding to Henry calling his name to attention. Thomas stared him down until Charles, feeling eyes on him made direct eye contact and almost recoiled into the crowd, to avoid being seen. He walked slowly but it was obvious to Thomas that Charles was fleeing the seen, and heading down the hallway. Retreating when the meeting was finally called, Thomas sat in the library, his hand finding it's way to his head as thoughts began to race. Something had happened, something had clearly happened. A misstep that had unleashed chaos and made reality shift under his feet. Thomas felt as if he were experiencing a minor out of body experience. Like he was watching himself from across the room as he began to mentally unravel. "I need to talk to you." a voice crept behind him, causing the philosopher to jump. Charles stood behind him, hand on his shoulder, gesturing for him to follow. "Y/F/N. . ." Charles began before being immedietly cut off by Thomas. "What have you done Charles?" he snapped. Immediately needing to know the state of your well being and how you became a recluse. "Wolsey. . " his voice almost shaken. "Wolsey has Y/F/N under investigation under the suspicion of witchcraft. . and-""and you're in charge of said investigation? Of MY pupil?" Thomas spoke through gritted teeth. "You kept her a secret from the King, the church and God." Charles response was cold, in an attempt to hide the brewing feelings underneath that had left him completely nauseated and further more if sleep was a destination on one side of the country, Charles was in another universe entirely separate from him. He could no longer sit still, the last three days he'd kept himself occupied pacing back and forth in his house, numbing his mind with wine, pleasures of the flesh, hunting, tennis, something, anything and everything. He couldn't get the sight of you before him, naked, and broken in front of him. "I was hiding her from the wolves!" Thomas explains. "How many maiden heads have you stolen since you've come to court? Hell, this month? This week?! And how many reputations have you sullied with a mere look?!" He jabs at Charles. "You think the men of this court will take one look at her and golly at her intellect?! You think she'd be able to have her own home?! Her own say in who she is or what she does!? How likely is she to have a GOOD husband who allows her, her own personal freedoms?!" Thomas then backs off, and holds his face in his own hands. "I was PROTECTING HER, from the likes of YOU, but like the DAMN BEASTS YOU ARE, YOU SNIFFED HER OUT!" he emphasizes his statement, slamming his hands against Charles's shoulders. The duke's face contorts as he tries to find the words to justify his actions, but seems at a loss for them. "So what do we do?"

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The last five days were spent cleaning, replacing the items that you had broken in the struggle. Filled with absolute dread, you were terrified of what was to happen when the King's men came tunneling in, and took you. Reliving the humiliating experience over again and again. A small part of disgust sat in your stomach as an ache in your lower abdomen began to radiate in your stomach. Arousal? No. How? Charles body weight on top of you, his face mere inches from yours. The force in which he grabbed you. The strength. You often tried to push those thoughts in the back of your mind, however your bodily functions clearly betrayed you as it kept being recalled. The slow burn of his eyes on your body as you laid splayed before him. Stop it. No. He's the enemy. He's the one who brought you to this terrified and almost paralyzing state. 

You feared running almost as much as you feared staying. What would happen to Thomas? His wife? His girls? What would become of them if you were caught in this entanglement? Thoughts disrupted by a low knock on the door. "Y/N?" Thomas, of course it was Thomas, you rolled your eyes as you got up to answer it. Opening your front entrance. Thomas stood before you, over his shoulder stood Charles, hat in hand.


	5. Chapter 5

Upon seeing both your mentor and your attacker a mere few feet away from each other in front of you, you promptly attempted to slam the door, catching Thomas's foot in the process in his effort to stop you from, well slamming the door. "OUCH!" He yelled, his brevity wasted where his brawny was lacking, needing Charles's assistance as he braced the door. "NO, NO!" you protested, your strength failing you as your legs began to literally scrape your floors as the door was forced open. Letting go finally, and retreating to your kitchen and finding a large pan raising it overhead. "Now, Y/N!" Thomas raised his hand in both protest and protection. Charles full on bending his knees and tucking his head between his shoulders as if ready for combat. "Y/N, I'm sorry!" Charles attempts to chime in which is met with serious reprimanded as you flung your skillet towards his direction, it leaving a dent in your wall and clanking on the floor. 

"Don't you say my name! Don't YOU EVER SAY MY NAME! YOU DON'T DESERVE TO WALK THE SAME EARTH AS ME!" You yell. Your words so harsh they even make Thomas flinch. "Now, Y/N. . . " Thomas gestures a hand out, gingerly wrapping his fingers around your wrist in an attempt to disarm you. "Y/N, I know, I KNOW." his words comforting and confusing you. You'd been on a paranoid high for the last five days, deep cleaning both yourself and your house. You couldn't tell if you were merely downsizing or full on packing. "Y/N, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry I've kept you hidden this long." Thomas goes to embrace you and you bite back tears. "But now you are out, you are known and you are seen." There was Thomas More, always looking to find the bright side of things, the silver lining in his suffering. Either a lesson or growth. "Now, with your permission of course, we . ." he takes his pointer finger and gestures a circle around the room. "Are going to figure out what to do about this supposed 'investigation' Wolsey decided to instigate. Alright?" Your upper lip tucked into your bottom, twitched nostrils flared as you gestured to Charles direction. "And how do I know this King's cuckhold, isn't going to report back to his boyfriend?!" you snap at Charles, at which he attempts to not roll his eyes. "Because it would be my head on the line too." he explains further. "You can occupy your time at my manor, Henry is currently in France attempting to 'make peace' with Louis. Thomas will be joining him shortly, alongside Wolsey." Thomas watched your face in an attempt to gauge your reaction. "And why would I stay with you? You clearly have no respect for boundaries, no respect for a person's privacy." you began to ramble, every word another dagger in Charles ego. "I understand how you feel that way, but you clearly can't stay here if Wolsey is out for your neck, his spies could already know where you are and what you've had for dinner last night." you pause before speaking. The wind once again knocked out of you. 

If Wolsey wanted you out of the King's eyesight, you had placed a target on your back the moment you joined him for dinner. His men flanking you from every corner. What choice did you have but to find a new corner? "Thomas, what will you be doing?" you ask. "Attempting to turn the king's head in my direction." his words both true and comforting, you offer him a halfway smile, you were still half concerned roping your mentor into a mess neither one of you had caused. Thomas wraps a palm on the back of your neck before pulling you close so your foreheads meet. "Everything will be alright lil' one. We'll save you from the wolves yet." you could physically feel your nose burning and your ears stinging as you again fought back the urge to cry. "Please, please be careful." you whisper. Knowing full and well the wrath of Henry, seeing your fair share of executions, you knew what he was capable of. However both you and Thomas were more or less well aware that for the most part, these were moves made by people in the shadows, pulling at Henry's heartstrings or temper. To tread lightly in his presence and watch for the way the tides shifted in his mind.

Packing the few precious belongings you had, your clothes, underthings, however papers and books seemed to take up a good majority of space in your inventory. Causing Thomas to once again stagger with your bags before Charles insisted on helping, much to your displeasure. Traveling still in disguise, there was no safety in the carriage and you felt your paranoia begin to brew as you ventured to Westhorpe Hall. You went in silence, watching as the day became night and you were left on the front steps of the manor. Thomas bidding you his goodbye, attempting to appease you begging him to stay. "Please. . please." Thomas placed his hand over yours. "Everything will be alright. . " he assures you, his soft words however doing nothing to help the growing sense of dread that was brewing just below the surface. You cried like a child when he left, standing on the front doorway for 30 minutes long after the carriage had disappeared into the distance. Charles watching you quietly as your stoicism disappeared and you were a sobbing blubbering mess. The ground you had so carefully laid before you had crumbled under your feet. The safety net you had attempt to keep so closely knit had been set a flames and panic took over. Charles couldn't describe the anguish he felt as he watched as the once proud woman he saw before, unhinge before him.

When you finally composed yourself enough to at least turn around, you stood tall before turning around and walking back into the house. Charles turned and as you quickly walked by tried to speak. "Y/N how about a-""Fuck off." your words short, and to the point followed by the slam of your bedroom door.

Three days you were pent up in your room as news rose from Thomas that Henry extended his stay in France from five days, to two, to three weeks. Thinking it would give you some sort of relief it only added kindling to your fire of paranoia that was burning away at your sanity. Three days in total, you had spent creating Henry's chart. Something, there had to be something there telling you about how or why Henry had a growing interest and borderline fascination with the people he kept around them before his disposal of them. There had to be. You hadn't slept, you hadn't eaten or bathed. You teetered away at your work hoping to chip away even a sliver of fear that had become a cloud that completely enveloped you mind body and soul. A soft knock coming from the door, before a soft shake of the door. "Y/N!" Charles called from the other side. "I know you're mad. . but, unless your eating the bed post I'm sure you haven't eaten." you rolled your head up, your stiff joints cracking at the movement and you didn't realize how frigid you'd become sitting on the floor working.

Getting up, your knees quaked, your mouth dry and your hair had become greasy from neglect. As you stepped towards the door, your toes down right screamed at you from being cramped in your ill-fitting shoes as you opened the door. "What do you want Charles?" you spat, little to no attempt to hide your contempt for him. He looked down at you, the oils on your face had built up on your forehead, your lips chapped and almost yellow. You were clearly dehydrated. Leaning against the door and holding the knob for support, your mind had clearly began eating away at your body and the stench of the days work had become pungent on you. Charles tread lightly, and for once in his life attempting to find words that wouldn't immedietly end up with him sporting another black eye. "Y/N. . ." he speaks softly. "Might I draw you a bath, and maybe some dinner?" he asks, turning his gaze downward, breaking eye contact repeatedly looking away from you. He was approaching you the same way you'd approach a wounded preditor, avoiding the gaze, and neck bared to show he held no ill will. Your nose twitched, and eyebrow raised. Turning your nose away and into the crook of your neck towards your pits in an attempt to smell yourself and good lord, you did stink. Trying to rationalize an excuse to say no, but coming up empty, you meekly nodded your head. "Yes, alright. . ." you agreed "Yes, alright" Charles repeated back, shooting you that same fanged smile, and it seemed like he was attempting to say something else, had you not immedietly slammed the door in his face. 

Fetching the large wooden tub, the large pieces of linen he struggled, mumbling obscenities at himself. " A thank you, would be nice." he swore. "Maybe a suggestion for dinner. ." paused for only a moment. What was he doing? He had servants to do this, house workers, why was he working so hard all of a sudden? Returning to your bedroom door. He struggled due to the sheer size of the wooden tub, he placed in the middle of your room, lining it with fabric for you. "I can get the water-""I'll get the water." he corrected you and was met with a pout. You couldn't object, by now your feet were surely a blistered bloody mess in your shoes.

You began unlacing your boots, your back to Charles as you sat on the opposite side of the room as he made multiple trips in long strides filling the tub with boiling hot water that'd cool down to a nice temperature as soon as it was filled. Removing your socks, you looked at your warped toes, the throb and ache building its way from your heels to your calves. Riddled with blisters, some bloody some ready to burst. "Lovely. ." you whispered, attempting to crack them with your fingers. "Alright, your bath mi'lady." Charles bowed theatrically, and you hid a smile from him. You couldn't help but notice the build up of perspiration that had covered him in a dim sweat, his cheeks were flushed and it was clear that this was an unfamiliar labor he had participated in. "Thank you." he smiled at that and took his leave. 

You sat in the bath, not giving it a second longer to cool. Your body relaxed, eliciting an array of cracks and minor spasms. Washing your hair, face, body and feet. By God your feet were horrible. The pain only minor dulling in the heat. It was comforting, to take your mind off of the current dreaded situation if only for a moment. Taking care of your actual body was the first thing to go out the door whenever you'd have these horrific attacks of panic, and boy were they abundant. This wasn't your first time you felt the alarming and unrelenting end of feeling mentally attacked, the killer for the most part being your own mind. You'd stay awake for long intervals of the night psychologically lynching yourself from one end of the spectrum to the other. The dreaded terror of living with a secret was having to keep it a secret, you were always in fear of being found out. Yeah you were good at hiding yourself but you were indeed only human. It often made you feel unworthy of the company you kept, not that you had any. You felt a misfit, a drift a reject. Lonely. Oh, that last one stung. You weren't able to relate to people and other people were certainly unable to relate to you. Thomas, sure your guiding light however you often had differing opinions that would mostly end in arguments instead of an actual discussion. 

Removing yourself from the tub, and dressing in a chemise. You stumbled as your bare feet touched the floor. Pain radiating, all the way up to your calves and knees. Making your way to the dining hall, the house stood empty. Most servers retired to their quarters as the late night drew them to start the mornings task. Charles sat in the dining room, a plate of bread, butter along with a bowl of broth. Your fingers clinging to the chairs and side of the long table as you made your way to the end of the table, your feet catching on the carpet and you stumble slightly before catching yourself. Charles stood as if ready to take action in case the worst case scenario took place, the motion you dismissed with a raised hand and a glare. "I thought you'd enjoy a light supper." he explains, pushing back the large wooden chair to accommodate you. You merely nod as he pushed you back in. Eating slowly so not to upset your stomach, sipping the broth and eating a bit of bread. Charles watched you once again, lost in thought. He watched as you began greedily eat, realizing how hungry you were.

"Charles you're staring at me.""Are you still angry with me?" he asks. Stopping you from eating and nearly causing you to drop your spoon. "Are you?" he asks again softly. His eyes glistening as if the answer may hurt you more than him. A good question, "I'm afraid of you." you answer. "Because of what I did?" he asks, fighting himself from leaning forward. "Because I KNOW what you can do." you answer. "You have the unending affection of the King. People come and go, lovers, subjects, civil servants, alas you stay alive, now why is that Charles? " you ask with actual curiosity to what his secret was to holding the King's favor. This accusation caused Charles to almost reflect his relationship with Henry. He'd known the king in his youth, been inseparable ever since. "I'm not afraid to tell him the truth." he answers, low and almost unsure himself. But from the moment Charles and Henry became friends, Charles never lied to Henry. He never told him what he wanted to hear, merely offering his opinion, never faltered from the King's challenges, in sport, jousting, chess, games etc. "So is that it then, your afraid of the influence I hold?" he asks. "I see you the same way I see a dog with it's nose clogged on a leash. The cardinal or king point in the direction and you just run." Charles pouts his lips. "What do YOU want? What do YOU think?" you ask. Each word causing the duke to drift further and further into himself, as if these words were the lash of the whip. "A man who cannot think for himself, how does he have the ability to not only lead but stand in his truth?" you ask.

These mental puzzles, both perplexed and vexed the handsome duke.These were questions he never felt the need to answer due to him merely going into whatever direction the king needed. What did he think? What did HE want? You sat lifting yourself further on the heels of your feet flinching in pain as another blister seemed to burst on the rug. "God dammit." you mumble looking down at your warped toes. Charles follows your gaze and opens his eyes to the surprise and mild empathic pain he feels looking at your feet. "Hold still." he suggests, pushing back his chair and leaving the room. You crook your brows watching him disappear only for him to reappear with a burlap wrap as well as a small bowl of poultice. "N'no." you whimper as he lifts your foot into his lap. "Don't. . " not only scandalous for him to see more than just your bare ankles, this was also a disgusting procedure. You leaned forward your hands pulling up your chemise in an attempt to keep some sort of modesty, only for your hand to be caught in Charles palm. "Stop." he speaks simply, softly. Gentle enough to allow him to proceed with whatever he was doing. Unwrapping the burlap a small set of tools. "What are you-""When traveling, often at times we aren't set with the best fitting shoes. Hell even if they are the 'best' one must break them in. On the battlefield, if you want to stay alive, you adjust, compromise and learn all you can watching your fellow man fall." You watch as he takes the small wooden tools, donned with metal tops that looked similar to a scalpel. "But this is. . ""I've seen worse." he rubs a firm thumb over the heel of your foot causing your toes to curl, as he begins picking gently at the dead skin. He pauses for a moment. "Why DO you wear shoes that are clearly too big?" he asks, looking up from your foot. "So that I may appear bigger." you state flatly. "I'm not that. . .I'm not that burly." a response that makes Charles chuckle. "Really? I couldn't tell with that attitude." you kick his palm and he catches your foot in his hand before giving you a firm look. "C'mon now, stop it." he asks.

He continues cleaning and draining the sores on your feet, taking the poultice and a small rag dragging it across your feet. A sensation of burning yet satisfaction takes over your sense and you try your hardest to repress a slight pure. "Why are you helping me Charles?" you ask, your body slack in your seat, your hands hanging over the arms of the chair. "Because it's the right thing to do." he states simply, a lie you can see right through. "Oh don't be self righteous now." you snap, your tone harsh and coercing. "Tell me the truth." you tug your foot away from him, only for him to grip it in his hold. "Why are you helping me?". He looks at you again. "Because I want to." Not a direct answer but there is truth in his words.

After a minute of fixing and cleaning your minor wounds, he rubs your heels and the balls of your feet. "You, you don't need to do that." attempting to correct him from overstepping but again, he doesn't release your ankles. "Could you just stop protesting me?" he sounds frustrated. "Let someone do something for you for once." you scowl him. "Coming from you? When was the last time you did something else for someone?". A strike, but something well deserved given the current state you were in being predominantly due to his brutal nature. He was ready for the walls you had put up, only to find that those walls were actually boulders. Why WAS he working so hard to carry your favor? He hadn't put this much efforts in lifting the skirts of the ladies of the court, let alone actually courting a woman or showing her his affection without strings being attached to it. Sure he'd joust wearing their colors, but it was a mere showboating a simple performance so that he may find their way to their affection. . .and bed. 

"Please, let me do this for you. ." he continues working your heal and toes, you wince at the slight popping sound your joints make in his hand. An increase of pressure before release. You realize in this action, Charles was truly trying to repent for his previous actions, and still you keep your reserve. Allowing him to do this favor but still keeping him at arms length. You sigh, relaxing your leg in his grasp finally surrendering to his endearment. As the night went on, the two of you conversed for a while, explaining the King's stances, Charles childhood, how Wolsey singled you out and how Henry had extended his stay in France due to his growing animosity with the king and his growing admiration of a beautiful girl who had been away at French court with her sister. 

For a second, only a second Charles sees a glimpse of the previous and brief friendship he shared with you before all went to shit. He walked you to your room, thanking him for his gestures and kindness and just before you closed your door, he caught the edge "I've missed you."


	6. Chapter 6

"I've missed you." 

Charles speaks in a soft, sweet tone leaning on the other door as he holds the side of the other. Your eyes widened and you offer a small sweet smile as he leans in. Closer, ever closer. "Oh," you let out a slight whimper as he gets closer to your face. You smirk, pressing your fingertips to his lips to stop on his encroaching on you. "You don't know me." and you quickly close the door in his face. You smirk hearing Charles slam his fist on the walls of the hallway as you lock the door and almost giggle. "OH COME ON!!" He shouts. His intentions becoming clearer and clearer, you know as well as the next woman that Charles simply could not separate business from pleasure. Being spurned of his chances, the duke continues to his room, dragging his feet.

Thomas continued correspondence with you and Charles throughout your stay, explaining how Henry had been too caught up in attempts to swoon a certain brunette to returning to his court, despite already bedding her sister. How stubborn she was, how defiant and insidiously she had gotten under his skin and how she very much frightened Cardinal Wolsey, a feat he could take advantage of. However Thomas couldn't help but highlight the ever present feeling of growing dread that this new love interest held over Henry. To the description it was as if his pursuit would ask him to jump, he'd ask how high, she returned all his gifts, his letters, and wouldn't lie with the king unless he swore to her. Stubbornness and tenacity seemed to run rampant in the young women these days. You smiled reading the letters by the fire, Charles looming over you, insisting you read it together. He often took joy in these moments, being close to you but not being able to touch you as you'd readily remind him if he forgot himself. 

Despite being an enormous house you would often find him wherever you were, as long as you weren't in your room it wasn't long before he took his place beside you. The study, the kitchen, the dining room. Quietly sitting on the same bench as you, the telling creak of the furniture announcing his arrival as you would lose yourself in the pages of your book as you attempted to ignore him. He'd annoy you further by pressing his thigh against yours, putting his feet in your lap, or swinging a leg over the other end so he was straddling his seat. All doing this with either a book or a letter in hand to justify his need to get comfortable. You'd often hide your smirk, or your laugh through flipping pages or adjusting your seat. This particular rainy afternoon, the duke decided he was no longer afraid of you, and attempted to be more bold in his actions as you sat quietly on a bench in the study, completely enveloped in a leather bound book. He made it to you in two short strides, the rain hitting the window pane adding a soft thrumming to the crackle of the fireplace. 

Sitting on the absolute edge of the seat, he leaned in placing his hands in front of him and leaning in slowly. "Charles?" you ask, you eyes never leaving the text. "What are you doing?" you ask. "Getting comfortable." he responds placing his head in your lap. "CHARLES?!" you speak, looking at the green blue eyes that reflected back yours in your lap. "Yes?" He speaks nonchalant, as he closes his eyes and relaxes his body. "There's no way that's comfortable." you comment held some truth. His long legs were half hanging off the bench, he quickly reprimands this by turning to the side so his face is in your stomach and his legs are curled up in a fetal position. "Come on-there's no way-""Can't hear you sweetheart I'm taking a nap." he mumbles into your shirt. You roll your eyes. Persistent prick, you weren't going to bested by him, and kept reading.

Five pages in, you feel the soft hum of Charles breathing and finally caved and looked down to find him actually sleeping in your lap. A slight string of drool forming in the corner of his mouth and his eyes underneath the lids darting back and forth. He looked so at ease, and vulnerable. This was the first time you fully take in his dashing features. His strong jawline complimented by his four o clock shadow, wild but trimmed brows, his perfectly etched nose and big eyes rimmed with long eyelashes. Lucifer himself would grow envious of this face. Impulsively, you were going to run your fingers through his curls, however you stopped yourself when he stirred slightly, and emitted a slight groan. Biting your lower lip, you surrendered to your impulse and placed a hand on his crown, softly tussling his hair, playing with them ever so gently. A beast in your hands, you felt like you were petting the coat of a wolf, as your thoughts ran back to that horrific encounter. How he grabbed you, yelled at you, threw you, straddled and stripped you making you lay naked before him. A slight burning sensation etched its way into your lower abdomen followed by a tingling sensation that reached all the way from your clit to your belly button, and you shuddered recalling the feeling of his eyes probing your naked body. A mix of shame, and guilt sped up your heartbeat. How could you forgive this monster and his atrocities so easily? Shame. The horrible weight of shame made your shoulders slump under what felt like lead weights being placed under your shoulders. The ache of lust was something unfamiliar to you as it'd never been expressed. Sure Thomas had explained and of course you researched further about body anatomy and all its functions but you never experienced physical desire, or a longing for a man's touch. Why? Why Charles? Knowing the reputation he had, you purposely avoided the teeth of wolf, and now here you were, slipping your hand in his mouth. 

He 'hmm'd' in his sleep and pulling an arm from under him, he wrapped it around your torso, further pushing his face into your blouse. Now clearly awake, you continued the loving motion of running your fingers through his hair until he'd turn to face you again. 

"You make a perfect cushion." you smirk. Now lying on his back with one arm around your waist and the other dangling, he brings his free hand over to caress your face as yours remained in his hair. He rises from your lap and attempts to pull your face into his, an action which makes you grow frigid, and stiff. "Charles don't." you state, finding the space he left free to remove yourself from the seat. He flies from his lying position, now standing. "Why!? Why not?!" Frustration growing as the days lay on of not possessing you in his hands. Having you lie and wraith with him with your name escaping his mouth like a prayer. "Because I KNOW how it goes with you!" a rebuttal. He makes his way towards you an action that causes you to flinch and hold your arms over yourself for protection. This action isn't lost on him, and he backtracks his steps so you are at arms length. "Can you really not forgive me?" he asks, his arms out, and palms front to show he hadn't mean to frighten you. It was clear the incident did it's fair share of damage, HE did his fair share of damage and a part of you would always know how ruthless and cruel he could be. But hadn't he repented enough? 

"It's not just that! YOU change women more often then people change their bed sheets, we do this and then what?! I'm left with the bastard child of a duke already married and widowed? You sleep with me, you already have my replacement lined up. You can go and find your vices else where, I don't care but you won't find them with me." you argue. "Are you telling me, that you have no interest in me? You don't happen to wonder what I'm doing when I'm not with you? That you don't look my direction when you hear me laugh or talk?! That you don't enjoy the small moments we have together?! This is just a business transaction, this is just a passing fancy?!" You softly gasp. Feeling more exposed than before, you bite your lip to prevent harsh words from wounding the beautiful man in front of you. "Charles, if you need to relieve yourself or with another warm body. . than by all means do so. But I'm not going to surrender myself to be a man's whore, let alone mistress. Do whatever you need to do." Charles nose snarls and his lips pout. "Fine, FINE." he announces his exit as he storms out the study, the harsh slam of the front door is what breaks your heart and causes you to retire to your room, crying softly into your pillow.

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'She's right, all I need is a good lay, get my mind off things. Off of her.' A feverish thought Charles force fed himself over and over again as he drowned his sorrows in beer in the corner of the tavern. 'Just need to take the edge off and all will be well.' he thinks. He hadn't been this anxious since he'd married Henry's sister Margot without his permission. The shredding of his nerves caused his hands to shake as fear overwhelmed him that he'd come home and you'd no longer be there. He was wasting his time day dreaming about you. Your small frame underneath his, him whispering sweet nothings as he laid claim to your maidenhead. His words both sweet and comforting as he'd drink in your soft moans and whimpers with him praising how well you were taking him- OH, NO, NOPE, NO. NO CHARLES that wasn't happening. He wiped his sweat on his hands and blew out hot breath as he tried to cease his imagination from wondering.

What WAS happening was the sweet little barmaid that had been staring at him, was walking by for the fourth time since he sat down at the establishment. It was like watching a lion spot a wounded gazelle and making eye contact with the young lass simply sealed the deal. 

The backrooms of the tavern were quiet aside from the creaking of leaking roof and the soft "oh's" and "ah's" of the dirty blond waitress that had completely surrender to Charles silent charm and ruthless removal of her top. Her touch brutal and bulky and her kiss was worse, a fight of tongue and teeth colliding with one another. Frustration began brewing again as Charles tried to talk himself through the motions again. When he tried to pacify her with his fingers as a means to stop her from biting his lips, she sucked his index and ring finger. The thought of you came flooding back, and his gaze drifted from the female in front of him, to just to the side of her, making her bite his fingers and take a swat at his chest. Charles gave a questioning and annoyed look. Her hands tread elsewhere resting initially from his chest then lower, lower to his groin eliciting a low groan from the duke. However the effort was lost on him, as no matter her attempts as they necked, he simply would not become erect. The sound of your laugh playing on a loop in his mind. And after a few minutes of given effort he'd come to the conclusion, and also major chaffing that this was not working. "Ah' DAMMIT!" He released the lass from his hold, fixing his trousers and tunic before storming off angrily. "Y'your grace?"

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The rain did not let up, and lighting cracked the sky as thunder began to clap among the dark grey clouds. Charles came home soaked to the bone, his hat in hand and the loud squelching noises his shoes made as they hit the carpeted floor causing water to bleed into the carpet as he made his way to your room as if he were in a trance. You stood on the other side of your door hearing the front door close, deciding to leave yours unlocked, almost as if you knew he was making his way to you. The soft click of the doorknob turning sent your heart a flutter, and you tried to hide your trembling seeing Charles head emerge as the door opened. 

He was indeed soaked through, rain water still tipping off of the tip of his nose and soaking the carpet. "Please. . ." he steps forward towards you, making you take a step back. "I couldn't, I couldn't do it." Attempting to hide your glee was an absolute chore. Remaining stoic as the relief washed over you in an awesome wave. Charles continues to make his way towards you, before getting on his knees. "I am. . . completely undone by you. ." his voice cracks in between words further breaks your heart and your eyes shine with unshed tears, a lump growing in your throat. "I want nothing and no one else." he reaches out and takes your hand in his, bringing your knuckles to his lips. "If eternity were mine to give, I'd offer it to you, just please. . please, say something." he begs. Bending at the waist to meet him where he sits and placing his face into your hands. You brush the scruff off his face, wiping away the rain water, and brushing your palm over his eyes feeling his long lashes tickle your palm before you slip his face into yours and end with a kiss.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hi! This is filth. Cheers. :D

It started with a kiss. 

A soft peck brushed against Charles mouth as his lips met yours and you clasped your hands around his face. He holds your hands in his before standing. His intimidating structure looms over yours and quickly grabbing you slowly by your under arms and raising you to meet his, you instinctively wrap your legs around him. He smiles into the kiss, licking your bottom lip and a gasp escapes your mouth allowing him entry. He almost relaxes in your hold despite your weight on him, this is what he wanted, this is what he'd spent nights dreaming about, the days lost to his day dreams of ever growing vulgar images of your body underneath him. "I . . I don't know what I'm doing." you whisper as he carries you to your bed. "It's alright..""I don't know how to do this. . " you continue to try to explain. "I know, shhh it's alright. You're ok"

He whispers sweet nothings into your ear, kissing the lids of your eyes, cheeks and lips. "You have nothing to prove and nothing to be afraid of." he pauses, laying his torso between your legs, his arms and head resting atop your stomach. "I promise." He watched your face as he brushed his lips on your clothed stomach. Your chemise bundled up where he laid, and he cupped his hand to your face, brush his thumb over your lips, watching your reaction

Sex had never been a gentle feat for Charles, it was always get in, get yours and leave. Brutal thrusting, rushed motions, if the girl were lucky he'd kiss her. But the faces and bodies came and went, once maybe twice but never habitual and never anything leading to promises. But you, the virgin laid before him was something to explore and express his desire for you in a gentle, tender way. He wanted to separate his past from the present now, from you. His fingers tenderly treading up your tunic, unlacing the ties holding it together. Air getting caught in your throat, your cheeks became flushed as he proceeded to untangle the knots and tug at the shoulders revealing your naked collar bones, chest and shoulders. Slowly, moving almost at glacial pace to gauge your reaction to see if he was met with any hesitation or fear. Instead he found you with flushed cheeks and biting your lower lip in anticipation.

Heeling his boots and they fell off with a loud clank on the floor, he pushed his weight on his knees and elbows so he was now towering over you. You begin to tremble as he lowers the thin white material met with little resistance and you begin to quake as they his knuckles meet your bare hipbones. You instinctively cover your breasts, bash fullness coming to a head and you feel a chill that starts at your spine, and reaches up your jaw causing your teeth to chatter. Charles smiles, leaning down and meeting you in a kiss before fully removing your frock in one fluid motion and returning to you. You hold him there, your naked body meeting his clothed being making you feel slightly vulnerable, however by your logic if his face was in your hands and his eyes were closed in a kiss, he couldn't look at your naked body. The kiss grew more eager, he nipped your lip, sucked your tongue, left a trail of saliva as it broke. "Easy, easy. . ." he exhales, pulling away to work on the collar of his shirt. Noticing as he kept one knee on the bed, the other standing as he began undressing; he noticed you slightly cover yourself with your hands, legs tightly closed. "No, no, " his hands met yours at your core covering your mound with the other reaching to grabbed the arm laid across your breasts. "Don't do that, don't hide from me." you blush even further as you allow your arms to retreat at your sides and you watch him strip. 

Beautiful was a word that both enclosed and yet didn't do justice to describe him. A being carved by Michel Angelo that'd sprung to life and stood before you as a living Adonis, whisking you away to bed. You felt that this was the closest to divinity you would get, your eyes trailed down from his face, to his abs, to his hip bones to his engorged and admittedly intimidating member, you let out a slight gasp. How the? Did he just pack that thing up and carry it whenever he went? Don't stare, DON'T STARE. Quickly you averted your eyes to the ceiling and he is upon you again. Your jaw trembled and your jaw continued to shake and he placed your face in his hands. "Pretty little thing. . " he comments as he captures his mouth in yours. You let out a soft mew as he placed soft kisses and bites down your lips, cheeks and collar bone. Moving slowly as his tongue trailed down your collarbone, your belly button, you jerked slightly in surprise of his continue venture as he placed a kiss on your hip bones, instinctively closing your legs unsure of what he was doing. "I've dreamed of this." he whispered, working his way in between your thighs, kissing the outer thigh. "My days are lost with visions of you.” a soft kiss on your mound causing your core to ache with want. Your outer folds completely soaked with physical desire, and are met with eager fingers, a thumb finding your swollen clit. 

Your face is beet red as Charles smiles watching you become a panting heaving mess, having yet breached you. "You're so responsive, sweetheart." another kiss placed directly on your clit as he folds back your lips, allowing him more access before he places his mouth completely engulfing the engorged bundle of nerves and your knee jerk reaction causes him to hoist a leg over his shoulder and the other to wrap around your torso securing you in place as he lapped up your essence. Soft whimpers and low moans die in your mouth feeling the burning tingling sensation grow in your lower stomach, causing legs to twitch, hands grasping at bed sheets caught tight in your knuckles. Charles watched as your face disappeared as your head whipped backwards on the bed following the arch of your back, breasts raised above and ass growing closer to him as he continued writing a strongly worded love letter on your clit. 

Sweating, a tight coil in your lower stomach began to pull taunt as he continued soft laps of his tongue on your inner folds before pulling you closer jamming his tongue in your entry, his nose tickling the lovely budding bundle of swollen flesh that sat at the crux of your lips. "ah HA" a verbal plea escapes your lips and your back arches further into the bed so your head and your rump is the only thing placed on the actual mattress. Charles took absolute pleasure in watching you come undone for him. Laying claim to what would be his and he was sure, ONLY his. Nervousness mixed with pleasure as he continued to devour you. The wolf claimed his kill and was now dining on her with a glass of red wine and candle lit lighting. How vary. 

Removing himself from you, you looked down resting yourself on your elbows finding him suck on his fingers. "Shh, it's alright lie down." he attempted to relax you, placing a hand on your tummy to press you back down to lying before returning your thigh to his shoulder. Slow, very slowly he breached you with his pointer finger. A slight sting and your knees jerked before he comforts you with soft kisses on your mound and thighs. He places a thumb on your clit easing you the uncomfortableness as your inner walls began to clamp on his digit, soon he added his middle finger and your breath hitches in your throat. "So tight. . ." he comments continuing to pump you. His fingers exploring your inner workings and when the tips of them brush against a certain spot, adding to the growing pressure your legs begin to quake. Charles watches your reaction, only to find you a panting, shuddering mess with eyes on the verge of tears due to the over stimulation. "You're doing so well . . you're doing so well. . . so god damn tight." you clamp harder on him and he smirks at this evaluation with glee, eyes growing darker with lust, as he watches you unravel in his hands. "Look at you. . . look at you." the air escapes his lungs at the end of his sentence making his breathy tone more of a whisper; a note to himself. If he could have any portrait painted of any moment of his life, it'd be this. Your baby hairs clinging to your sweaty forehead, your shaking and quaking limbs. He feels the growing spasm in your inner walls and your peak crests and he applies further pressure on your clit. "Charles. . CHARLES. .it's- somethings happening." he joins you in a symphony of moans as your orgasm washes over you leaving you completely slack on the bed.

Returning to his place on top of you, Charles conquers your mouth again, meeting a shacking jaw as you try to rationalize what happened. "You did so well, you're doing so good. ." he praises you, pressing his hard member against your mound, rubbing it on your now drooling lips. Grabbing your arms and placing them on his shoulder. You almost instantly went frigid, sensing the tension Charles kissed you again, brushing his face against yours and whispering words of comfort. "Hang onto me. ." he whispers. You do grasp him in your hands, feeling the muscles underneath the skin and he reaches his arms underneath your body to hold you closer as he slowly splits you open. Instantly, you break into a sweat and a slight panic as Charles watches your face and your eyes go wide as your body tenses, sensing an intruder. Finally meeting the barrier with the tip of his cock, your mouth a gaping maw as he pushes forward quickly breaching it and tears stream down your face. "Ahhh" a soft plea as he continues pushing forward. All you could do was latch onto him like a pillar of safety, a sailor seeking refuge in the storm. "God damn. ." his low growling voice as he continued to work you until he completely bottomed out. 

You stayed like that for a while. Your pounding heartbeat, mirroring his as he rested on your chest.

Waiting for you to adjust, he held your face in his hands, brushing lose hairs out of your face and wiping away tears. "Are you alright?" , you nod eagerly, feeling the stinging sensation of the stretch slowly give way and the pressure slowly ease. "Can I just. . could you kiss me please?" you ask, your hand in his hair, running a thumb down his jawline. Charles smiles happily to oblige this request and even finding it endearing. As pain gives way to a familiar building of pleasure, you move your hips to be met with a few shallow thrusts and you can feel the curve of Charles smile in the kiss, happy to meet you halfway. He goes slow at first, looking down at your body as your breasts bounce with every movement and finally he can't help himself before kissing the curve of your bosom before popping a perfectly erect nipple in his mouth and giving it a gentle suck. You arch your back again to meet his touch. "You're so perfect." his movements become more slightly more rapid. Your breathing becomes audible as the tip of his cock strokes a delectable raised bumpy surface causing you to moan like a wanton. A sound Charles meets with his own symphony, lost in the bliss of you. 

A sense of urgency overtook him, Charles had never necessarily cared about his partners pleasure, so taking in every soft "oh." and "ah" and his favorite, hearing his name escape your mouth was the applause he needed to bring you to the peak. 

Your nether regions completely soaked, the loud wet noises were absolutely obscene . Causing you to shudder further wanting to get lost in the man above you. The slap of his balls on your ass caused a pink coral flush to brush over your chest, neck and face. Your body being dragged to meet the curve of his hips as he took you deeper, deeper. The pressure building in your stomach and you no longer attempted to hide your cries of pleasure as he took you completely. Into the mouth of the wolf, you slipped your hand over the teeth of the wolf, now going down it's throat. Consumed. Completely, mind body and soul. 

"That's it, that's it little one. Lord, ha-AH, that's so perfect.." he feels you clamp down on his member, the slight familiar quivering sensation. The motion of watching your hair spill out on the sheets, your breasts bouncing with every motion and the beads of sweat illuminating the curves of your face. Your lips a bright pink, mouth open, lower lip tipping so the bottom row of teeth showing. Charles continued to split you on his cock, watching you further and further unravel, your hold of reality beginning to slip and the climb to your peak building. "Charles. . .I'm. . it's." his brows turned down as his hands returned to your hips in a brutal vice like grip as he now pounds into you. Pleasure surging and over stimulation takes over causing your eyes to water. Watching Charles work you almost tipped you over the edge, sweating, panting, groaning and moaning absolute obscenities. Removing one hand from the grip of your hips, he presses firmly on your lower stomach causing the pressure already building to tip over, and as his thumb returns to your clit you spasm. Your inner walls massaging his member causing him to meet his own peak. "Ah. . AH!!" The spill of him inside you further stretching you causing a delicious burn. Charles arms find there way to snake around you as he collapses on your body. Sweat causing skin to stick, and all is quiet aside from the low pants. 

You were in the belly of the wolf. 

The two of you laid like that. Clinging together, Charles continued to kiss your temples, withdrawing from you causing a low moan to escape you and you whine at the lost of his body heat. He brings you close to him so you rest on his chest an arm wrapped around your shoulders as you shrugged against him, wordlessly falling asleep.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies on chapters becoming shorter, I'm in a bit of a rut.

Just before the day had started, you stirred in bed half conscious and somewhat constricted from moving much. Charles had positioned you so you were in the crook of his chest, the small spoon with an arm wrapped around your torso. Your eyes hazy as you adjusted to the light coming in from the rising sun. "Hmm..." a low groan from Charles chest, you can feel the rumbling on your back. Shifting your torso and legs, a slight pang of soreness radiated from your groin to your belly button, shifting again you moved the sheets to find small streaks of dried blood on both the bedding and your person. "Oh. ." you grovel slightly moving again, to attempt to get comfortable before drowsiness completely left you. Fixing yourself in Charles arms, you held out your hand looking at the surface and the palm.

You somehow expected to look different after the deed was done but finding no physical transformation you smirked. Old Wives tales had seemed to insert themselves in your sub conscious beliefs you giggled slightly at your silliness for believing them. "Hmm.." another low growl from Charles as he pulled you closer to him, his morning scruff scratching your face as he placed small kisses on your temples, clearly now awake. "Good morning my love. ." his voice deep from sleep as he continued peppering small kisses on your face, leaning forward and releasing you from his grasp so he was now facing you as you laid on the pillow beside him. "How are you feeling?" he asks, watching your face as your eyes traveled down, lower, to the soiled bed sheets. "Oh, I. . uhm." you moved so your weight was on your elbows and Charles followed your line of sight to find what you were looking at, before giving a slight tug to the blanket finding the blood stained sheets. "I'm. . I'm sorry." he smiled, leaning forward and cupping your face in his hands placing a small peck on your lips. "You've nothing to be sorry for, perfectly normal." you exhaled a sighed a little, not that you were unfamiliar to blood but this particular situation gave a certain type of intimacy that you were unfamiliar with. He grabbed your hand that was now clutching the bed sheet to your naked form, and you surrendering with a slight tug gave him your hand. "But," kissing your open palm, your wrist and your forearm. "How are you feeling?" he asks again. "Fine, uhm. . a little sore." when did you become so meek? Charles smiled again, pulling back the sheets further to find blood on your mound and lower stomach before inspecting himself further to find he too had small streaks of residue on him. "How about a bath?"

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Watching Charles hustle again and again in order to fill the God damn tub was a labor of love, and one you didn't mind watching. His physical form lugging the large wooden tub again into your room, lining it with linen. Of course you offered your helping hand but upon your complaint of soreness he insisted you remained stationary on the bed; naked. 

Finally filling the tub, curls of steam peaking upon the rising temperature Charles had a fine sheet of sweat on his forehead when he removed you from your seat, carrying you to the tub. Carefully stepping in with you in his hands, you yelped slightly at the burning sensation that met your bum as you were submerged in the water. Sitting between his legs, Charles worked your hair into a lather, silence only exacerbated by the slight splashing sounds of the water, until finally the questions piled up in your mind you felt the need to speak. "Is it always like this?" you ask, turning to look at him. "I don't. . I don't really know how to act after. . . that." you confessed. Words that both brought confusion and a slight sense of glee to Charles, you were completely clueless when it came to romantic relationships, let alone sexual or romantic intimacy. "Not always." he answers, playing with your foamy locks, and wiping a stream of bubbles from your brow before it drifted into your eyes. "Will it always hurt?" curiosity coming to a head. He wraps his arms around you, pressing you firmly to his chest. "No, why are you hurting now?" he asks, pulling away and looking at you concerned. "No, I'm just a little sore. . the hot water helps." you return your head to his chest.

Realizing the weight that had been bestowed upon Charles was both overwhelming but also welcoming. He never particularly liked virgins, nor sought them out. In truth he thought the constructed was way dated and never found it interesting or 'powerful'. The idea that a woman's honor laid only between the thin veil of flesh in her crotch was a ridiculous notion. At the same time, tightening his grip around you, this was unexplored territory, something you had never thought of doing let alone dreamed or fantasized of. Something you'd never been taught or spoken about. He'd be your first everything and as much as he shunned himself the idea of carving a place inside you that only fit him made him clench his jaw. Possessiveness? Charles never felt it. He never felt the need to lay claim or ownership over any woman, including his wives. He'd marry, go on about his way doing whatever and whomever he liked, expecting his spouse to do the same. But here, in his arms. A cherub, a gift and something he felt for a whole that was beyond his touch. 

He continued to bath you, wash your arms and legs, having you stand in the tub so he could gingerly wash your inner thighs of any remaining blood. A thought pried at him, like the tip of finger nail digging into his psyche, and finally coming to its peak he asked, kneeling before you as he toweled you off. "Do you regret it? Losing it to me?" he asks, looking up. He replayed the moments you had repeatedly insulted his libertine nature, playboy persona on a loop in his mind and couldn't help but wonder if your ideas of him truly changed.

You smiled looking down as he dried you off, his eyes searching yours for a sign. "No." you spoke firmly, your balance resting in the hands on his shoulders and he smiles. As he stands up to dry himself off, you begin dressing. He watches you diligently. Your whole ceremony of getting ready for the day.Your horrendous stockings was the first thing that irritated him slightly, your trousers and then came binding your breasts. "You, you don't have to bother with that. . you know." he gestures, breaking your concentration from tightening the linen around your torso. "Until we figure out how we are to tell your king I am a new woman, I don't think it's wise to have me lounging about the house in my morning glory." you tease. "Don't threaten me with a good time." Charles laughs. He watches as you put on your tunic, wrapping a towel around his waist before making his way over to you. His fingers finding their way in your shirt as he goes to fix it. "Amazing how you'd stand before me, just as you are now. . .and I knew none the wiser." he whispers, lacing your shirt. "What did you think when we first met? Formally. . ." you ask. "How small you were." his response so quick it's almost laughable and you pout. "No, really." he smiles sensing the tension.

He places a feet between yours so you look down. "The boots didn't help." he jokes remembering the horrendous things. "I thought 'that small man, has flat feet.'" your laugh catches him off guard and he joins you in a chuckle.

The day was spent lounging a bout, Charles taking every opportunity to nestle close to you, hold you, squeeze you. You read messeges corresponding to Thomas as he further explained his impending dread of the king's coquettish nature to pursue this supposed "Anne Boleyn". Her fair skin, brown hair and enchanting smile made Thomas uneasy as she further attempted to get space from the king, the further and further he was willing to go to pursue her. Charles laughed it off as a passing fancy but something about this new pursuit made you absolutely uneasy. "Burn it." you stated, handing him the letter. Charles looked at you, questioningly. 

You didn't like the eariness, the letter feeling like the physical manifestation of anxiety in your hands already under the weight of having to both hide your identity and explain your on going relationship with The Duke of Suffolk. "Do you think she's a threat?" Charles asked, taking the letter from your hands and looking it once over. "The King's had his fair share of affairs before, you know." he speaks from the side of his mouth. "I know, but something about this one. . she hasn't given into him yet." you speak, resting your thumb between your lips.

"If she has no desire to return or be in court, how much you want to bet the King is merely seeing her as a toy at the end of a stick, and him an eager cat? Do we even know if she returns his desires?" you ask cooly. Something about this new love interest made your stomach churn, as if you were seeing the ends of your vision clouded slowly with a dark fog. You shared the same uneasy feeling Thomas so elegantly illustrated in his letters, the only rational reaction to you seemed to burn the letter to hide any correspondence with him in case matters went left. The only silver lining Charles could make out in his message was that Henry was growing more and more irritated with a certain Cardinal. Wolsey had absolutely no interest in catering to the King's pursuit of the Boleyn girl. With him not doing much to hide his disinterest as well as his thoughts of the beloved Queen Catherine, the state of affairs with France, he felt the pursuit of another, and so openly would shake the pedestal the king had bestowed upon him. 

"We could use this to our advantage. . " Charles announced rereading the letter and sitting at your side. "Hmm?" you ask, leaning over to skim the letter if you've missed anything. "The attention is off you, if the King is so forthright in his affections for another I doubt he'll panic at the-the mis gender of one of his loyal subject's ward?" your eyes knit together and your head crooked to the side. "We dress you up, take you to court, charm him. . .he could see it as a misunderstanding. ." "Or I could DIE??" you nearly shout at the end of your sentence. "Henry isn't like most, that's why it's so hard for his supposed council to control him, he's a man of the new world, he loves art, literature, astrology! You charm him with your intellect he'll be swept off his feet!" Charles attempt to convince you, his hands swaying in the air as his attempts to gather the beginning threads of a thought. "And what's the alternative?" you sigh, rubbing your hand across your face. Really there was none. You could retreat into the mountains, raise sheep and attempt to grow a beard despite Thomas insisting in your teen years that you couldn't. 

"I. . I don't know how to BE feminine or, or charming, or dainty." you quailed , spreading your arms across in a grand gesture that mocked a curtsy. "you don't need to try to be charming you are charming. . .you could take a lesson in etiquette." he reaches over taking the tip of your finger and twirling you. "Like polishing a brass cup." you tease. "Only to find it's rusted solid Gold." he graces your forehead with a kiss.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know the direction I want this to go. . I'm just very unsure of how I'm going to get it there. Bare with me?

They killed that poor Barton girl. You and Charles watched from the crowd as her slim figure shook in the wind at the end of the gallows rope. A fearful and very real reminder of those who openly repelled the King's wishes to break free from the church. Rumors on the wind whispering how poor Catherine of Aragon would march to the church in the early morning barefoot and pray before the sacred Virgin for a son to form in her warped womb. Crying for answers of how her children were called to God so early and how the eye of the king had wondered to another. 

Poor Elizabeth Barton thinking she had shared the same visions of Jeanne d'Arc had grown to be a favorite of the English court due to the favor in which her supposed prophecies had painted the kingdom. However upon finding the news of Henry attempting to annul his vows to Catherine, immedietly turned, claiming the King would be dammed as soon as he wed the Boleyn girl. You were surprised how quickly she confessed to her visions being false, despite gaining the favor of The King, Thomas and even Wolsey. However it appeared the reprimanding of the King's current interest resulted in immediate trial followed by execution. Escorting you back to the carriage, Charles was careful with his wording as you sat beside him, a comforting hand placed on your inner thigh. "Poor Elizabeth, poor Catherine." he whispered gently. He himself feeling the King's wrath when he married his sister Margot, and then immedietly again after her passing, a banishment until an apology but in Henry's court that was a mere slap on the wrist. "We need to be careful with this." he whispered as the carriage shook when it began to move. 

"Carry his favor, he's no different from any man that wants his ego stroked, his beliefs confirmed. ." you sighed. "But now, now no one is safe." it was true. Henry had executed two sitting members of his council. Wolsey now sitting on teeth and nail worried for his position, while Thomas More kept quiet correspondence with you. You made sure to destroy any and all letters, kept a low profile in the mean time before the King arrived back home. "He will take down anyone who stands in the way of what he wants." Charles confirmed, his hand moving from his thigh to your hand. He was anxious and you were too. Thomas was your mentor, your savior, your father but it became apparent in his writings that he did not and would not condone the marriage of another to the King, not so much in what he said, but in what he didn't say. He never wrote favorably of her, but didn't condemn her either, your life was one thing but losing Thomas would leave you with seemingly nothing. Not even hope to get you through the night. "We need to get to him before Wolsey paints us as the enemy." 

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"Are you out of your fucking mind?" you ask stumbling again attempting to take a step in the large heeled shoe, only to be caught by Charles. Opting out of the houppelande, for fear you'd break you ankles and instead deciding on a long dress over a white kirtle and a chemise underneath that you were heavy with fabric. "You'll need a headdress." Charles commence, lifting you back to standing position. "I thought I wore a lot of material before. ." you commented steadying your stance as you tried taking steps. "Is there any sanctuary in fashion?" you ask, attempting to take semi-deep breaths. 

Breathing restricted by the corset was one thing, but the shoes, lord the shoes were just another level of pain. "Will my feet ever be comfortable?" you ask yourself. "Head up, chin out, shoulders back." Charles instructed placing a book on the crown of your head. "How do you know how ladies are supposed to walk dear Duke of Suffolk?" you ask, smiling at the end of your sentence recalling the stories of his playboy antics. "I make it my business to know." he teases

Taking his spot behind you, he extends your arms, lifts your chin. "Now glide. You create the illusion of floating by taking smaller steps." he informs, returning a hand to your lower back to gently push you forward. "Why must ladies float?" you ask, following instruction. "Because heavenly creatures never touch the earth." Oh Charles Brandon you silver tongued devil. 

Moving on to table manners, Charles took the liberty of tying your feet to the sides of the chair so you'd stop fidgeting you, your back and torso also strapped to the chair. "Straight back, the sooner you straighten your back the sooner you'll learn to lean forward so you can eat." You struggled reaching for your cutlery, the end of your pink just barely touching the handle of the spoon. "Maybe don't make the first meal for this soup? Seems like a logical choice." you teased attempting to lean forward and reach your meal, the wooden legs of the chair squeaking as you attempted to force your way closer. 

Dancing was both fun and exhausting. The weight of your get up made you stiff, not to mention the length of your dress causing you to fumble. "The man leads." Charles instructs, and often at times you'd allow you feet to rest on his toes and allow him to carry you through until you got the steps right. "Do you think I'll actually pass as a 'lady'" you ask, swinging your head back in dramatic fashion. "You can't expect to immedietly good at everything. . ." he comforts you. "These are all feats women learn since birth in order to take the company of court as a lady in waiting." he tuts, giving you a twirl. "You've learned more substantial knowledge then embroidery and a waltz, don't discount that." 

Within the final week of Henry's stay you'd managed to learn to walk in heels, do a corset by yourself, and even improved your table manners at a substantial rate. Looking the part, acting the part, dressing the part. You felt like an actress ready to storm stage, attempting the carry the kings favor with your wit and charm, Charles insisted he escort you when the time was right, opting for a private meeting with his Majesty rather than have a room of council whispering their own varying opinions of what he should do, say or think. And certainly when Wolsey wasn't lingering over his shoulder. 

When the night finally came you couldn't help but shake, fidget, and pick at your nails. Waiting in the dark corridor to be retrieved by your lover, you felt like a lamb ready for slaughter with the outcome coming one way or another. Charles promising to take the punishment at your side, plead your case, whatever it took to keep you safe. Your small tarot deck and a handful of papers at your disposal despite Charles objecting to the idea of appealing to the King's thirst of information, after the seeing outcome of Elizabeth Barton's supposed prophecies, he was hesitant on making any sort of predictions. You also soundly decided that keeping your current ongoing affairs with the duke of Suffolk a secret as well, not needing any sort of further blow back, you may as well begin digging your own grave if you were going to divulge situations that had no business at the time being unearthed. You yelped as a hand placed itself on your shoulder, Charles coming to you with light in his eyes. "It's time. ." 

Following the dense footsteps the clicked along the stone floor until you saw light bleeding into the hallway by an open door. Henry sat at his small table, wine in hand and legs crossed. This was the most casual you had ever seen the young king. His piercing silver eyes looking over your form as if you were a slab of meat. Donning a white chemise under your burgundy dress, and long sleeves and a low neck line, you dipped graciously into a curtsy. "Y'. .your majesty." your voice shook. Henry watched you, eyeing your decolletage, and the curve of your bosom as you kneeled. "Charles, where have you been hiding this lovely creature?" he asks, uncrossing his legs and standing at attention, his hand reaching under your chin to see your face. 

Eyes brimming with tears as fear almost overtook you. Charles ground his teeth watching Henry move around you. He hated it. He hated him touching you. He knew that look, the look Henry gave all the women he quickly seduced and bedded, hoping the reigns of love would stop his further infidelity to Catherine, to Anne, the duke gripped his thumbs in a vice like grip to stop himself from attempting to place himself in between you and the King. " I've seen this face before. . ." Henry examines your face. Eyes welling with unshed tears. "Forgive me your majesty, I fear I misrepresented myself in previous passing's." your voice breathy and cracking in between words. "Y/F/N??" he asks, eyes wide, brows raised and mouth cracked into a gaping maw that was slowly forming a smile. "Tis' wasn't my intention my King. However given current living circumstances, I felt-""You couldn't apprentice as a female." Henry finished your sentence. Feeling it was best not to correct him, further attempting to make his ego purr, you simply nodded. Returning to his chair. "Has More kept you from court all these years?" he asks getting more comfortable in his chair, returning his hand to his cup. "Tell me, you're still the same ward that reads our fortunes in the stars, and playing cards no?" he asks, curiosity brimming inside him. You looked at Charles unsure how to answer, before looking back at the king. "If that's what his majesty says I am, than that is what I am." Henry smiles. "And if I were to say you're a bird?" "Than I'm a bird." you smile at the end of your sentence, a show of affection that Henry returns. "I like you better this way.." he twirls his wine in his glass so the legs form on the rim of the cup, and gestures for you to sit. "But tell me, what makes you different then the Barton girl? " you take the available chair, Charles flanking your side. "I believe in the divinity of oneself." you answer gingerly removing your tarot deck and maps out on the table.

Knowing Henry was currently at war with the current actions of the church, his desperate attempt to scratch and claw his way out of this marriage in order to pursue another, you merely had to direct that passion out of your direction. Charles watched eagerly as you spilled out and explained your knowledge of the stars, space, time, old tradition and esoterics as well as a tarot spread for Henry when he insisted upon it, already enchanted by your mannerisms, your charm, your wit. Charles watched as the expressions changed on Henry's face as you enlightened him on the old ways hidden from human kind by suppression of the church; a feat his endeared love Anne had also expressed to him, further catering to his current growing interest.

"Draw me a spread." he insisted. Your eyes nearly bulged out of your head. Looking over at Charles, as he nodded in agreement."Draw his majesty's cards." he reaffirmed. Nodding, and quickly taking out your deck you shuffled the deck thoroughly, literally as if your life depended on it. "Does his majesty have a question? You don't have to ask it out loud, even in your mind if it pleases you. I like to give an accurate reading whenever possible." Henry's piercing silver eyes watched your dexterous fingers disappear and reappear in and out of the pile of cards, a performance in itself as you laid the deck flat in front of him. "Please, cut the deck." you instructed. Smiling a shit eating grin, the same that signaled his superiority, his outwit and his knowledge was superior to yours, and you willingly submitted to allow him to believe so. 

He cut the deck and chose which side of cards to pick, you spread them in front of him, instructing him to pick a few. Flipping the given set of cards you watched for Henry's reaction as he quickly leaned over the spread watching as you turned the cards over, even doing sol, getting closer on your end to the point he had come to find himself leaning over your shoulder. Something Charles absolutely did not like. He fidgeted in his seat, his knees shaking underneath the table and biting his lip. Henry so captured in the telling of the cards, all these gestures went unnoticed. 

Flipping the three of swords, Henry tilted his head. Reading his expression you began explaining. "You've felt a tremendous lost in your youth, a pain that you dealt with very elegantly. . but you still carry the weight of this loss." Henry's eyes seemed to soften. Having lost his mother at a very young age when his brother had first married his wife Catherine, although him quickly feeling the loss of his brother and soon his darling mother. The tragedy of that, left the young king traumatized. "Please. . ." his fingers touching your bare shoulder. "Continue." he instructed. 

Charles was all but fuming. He had hoped things would go swimmingly however this was a bit of an overkill. Flipping another card. "Nine of wands. You are pursuing something that is beating you down, relentlessly. Tell me you majesty how is your physical health?" Henry paused. Not wanting to divulge his deteriorating state of his health as well as his paranoia of his council. He was far from alright but for the sake of appearances he stood charming, handsome and able to keep up appearances. "You forget yourself." he spoke in a deeper tone, grabbing your hand in order to remind you who he was, but also in a sense of comforting, like a friendly pat on the back. "Forgive me your majesty. . but I only ask because of the tremendous stress you seem to be under." your index finger tapping down on the card. "I fear for your health and well being brought on by the weight of matters, I sit here astonished at how well you carry yourself." He smiled at you, completely enamored with every word that fell out of your mouth. Perfect. 

Continuing the reading. Two of cups reversed. "A connection-someone close to you is using you for their own agenda." your sentence slow, as though you were walking on unsteady pillars. Watching the king's expression, his brows furrowed and his thumb found his way into his mouth. "Who, WHO?" he demanded to ploy further, his voice raising as he took his seat back across from you, a sigh escaped Charles lips, as the reading commenced he gave off the body language of an agitated cat. His foot slipping further under the table and finding yours, making you look at him through the side. Shuffling the remaining deck, your fingers began to sweat knowing you were treading on very dangerous territory, you almost began to shake as you pulled remaining cards. Three of pentacles, "Male, dark brown hair, most likely greying, elderly or late in age" you held your breath, before pulling the Suit of Swords. "Eyes are blueish green tint. He is someone who wears the cloth." you spoke idly, meekly. Not knowing where you stepped merely stating where the cards fell, however it felt as though you were tugging at the strings of fate when in reality you were merely narrating it. Finishing your description, his majesty sat back in his chair, looking further into the fire, an hush falls upon the room. Your heart beating in your ears, and anxiety began to build in your chest. 

"And how do I know you don't have your own agenda?" Henry's gears began to turn in his head, he spun off of every scenario and rather than toy with you by letting you guess what he was thinking, he'd rather confidently let you know the power he held. "Because I want nothing more for the majesty's happiness, I ask for nothing for myself, I'd lie with a hairshirt for weeks on end if it pleases his majesty to show I would gladly repent for my sins of misguided information or hiding my sex." He smiles. "Oh, no I'd hate to see any damage done to that beautiful skin of yours. I'd rather see you in court dressed as you are, exactly as you are." he flirts. You raised your brows, taken back at this junction of outright seduction. "Only if it pleases your majesty." you smile. Charles wanted to outright claw his own eyes out. Unable to do anything under the kings thumb than just run at the end of his chain and bark. His, his, his. His insecurities beginning to float to the top of his emotions. Would Henry have you like every other passing fancy then go on to continue his pursuit of the Boleyn girl? Would you give into his coquettish nature? His swagger? His piercing gaze? No. Not here. Charles wouldn't let his emotions get the best of him here. "I think I've heard all I need for tonight." Henry sighed, contempt with the outcome of the meeting, you gave him something to chew over as he progressed through his next move in his endeavors. As you bowed out to take your leave, "Oh, and Y/N?" Henry spoke very casually, standing now at attention. He leans over taking your hand in his, kissing your knuckles "Tell More there is no hiding anything from me." A sentence that sent a silent chill down your spine, making you bite your lip and shiver at things yet to come. You almost felt rooted to your spot had it not been for Charles escorting you out. 


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! I hope you're all well! I'm trying to write jucier chapters so apologies if this is a bit vanilla but I'd like to set a good plot for where we're going later. Also, heavily HEAVILY inspired by 'The Royal Affair.' please watch if you want a good cry btw. Anyways cheers.

Lash upon lash, Thomas More sat at his altar continuing to whip himself as means to redeem himself of given circumstances. His bloody back exposed to the morning sunlight as he prayed for his redemption. 

Not wishing to step on his majesty's toes. He had carefully worded every sentence, his diction, his mannerisms as he watched Henry further and further become entrapped in the web spun by Anne Boleyn. The poor girl herself unsure of what she had gotten herself involved with. Refusing time and time again, Henry's advances further delved her into the center of this maze that was the Tudor family and the company it kept. 

He both feared for her physical well being as well as her soul, as the young King was turning over rocks, uprooting trees, and destroying borders in order to get her in his bed. Jesus, if the idea of redemption was that fleeting, the King would be in the greater graces of God within the end of this sentence. And Thomas wept, crying to the blessed virgin for your safe outcome upon finding out that Charles had by the saving grace of meta forces smoothly transitioned the reveal of your identity. Though surprisingly the Duke insisted on keeping you pent up in his home. Thomas could feel his nerves clicking the longer he was kept away from you. Wolsey however was hanging onto the Henry's every beck and call, attempting to pull every string, cord and favor of the Pope in order to find some sort of loop hole out of his marriage to Catherine. Oh the poor queen. 

Princess Catherine had all but flayed herself, digging her heels into the ground as she refused to divorce or allow an annulment of her marriage. In the beginning despite being married to the King's brother and following his untimely passing, the young King did in fact love his beloved Catherine and at the time the two shared a very happy marriage despite the ever prominent age difference. Her heart slowly began to break as she realized she could not maintain the young King's gaze for long, and not so long after the birth of her first and only child Mary did she realize that the disintegration of the marriage was inevitable. All the children that filled her belly, being called early to God and with every passing a piece of her left as well, now only being held together by sheer will and her definition of the grace of God. 

She continued to confide in Thomas, distrusting Wolsey as far as she could throw him, and even taking the liberty of warning her estranged husband of his antics, but now upon failing to reach an agreement with the Pope, Wolsey had once again come up short handed. 

In the castle, Henry was being bombarded by both ends, Anne in one ear, Wolsey in the other. He'd begin sweating with one emotion bouncing from one to the other. Before finally his irritation came to a head. " I cannot have my own thoughts!" he shouted. It was true, it was all true. Your predictions of the growing agenda starting to rear its horns behind the head of the Cardinal. "You two fight over me like a dead carcass among vultures!" The King shouted, his head in his hands, with Anne at one side and Wolsey on the other. "Well then. . . " the lovely brunette spoke. Carefully, very carefully she moved with caution as the words left her mouth. "I don't see how you can keep the company of both of us. . ." she confessed. Henry looked up, removing his graze from the ground and watched as her silhouette castes a shadow as she made her way down the hall. 

Torn was the only word Henry could use to describe the feeling that had plummeted into his chest. 

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Over the course of the next week, Henry had changed his attitude of gift giving and a growing number of banned books had made their way into your grasp. He'd never made an inappropriate gesture, wrote obscene letters but seemed to seek your understanding on his take of certain subjects, especially transfixed in Philosophy and Astrology. Charles was none too pleased. Knowing what followed being no exactly courted by the King, but you were definitely being spoiled. Leather bound first editions, maps, predated before the influence of Christian churches suddenly were at your disposal and you read them as fast as you received them. 

You felt room to exhale for the first time in a long time, the King currently further occupied as Anne Boleyn returned to court and from you had seen and heard had seemingly been able to play him like a fiddle. Currently laying in the grass, as heavy dense clouds rolled in and a light mist began to dampen the pages of your book. Charles watched you from the window of his bedroom. Wearing only a thin white chemise, he watched as the rain began to cause the fabric of your gown to stick to you, and your barefeet sticking in the air as you turned the pages on your book resting on your elbows. 

Currently looking through old texts in attempt to aide the king in his quest for finding some middle ground in ancient first editions of scripture, you felt as though you were onto something, when you saw a shadow cast down over you. Turning over and finding Charles looming figure overhead, you turned over so you were on your back. He watched you, his eyes drinking in your figure, the curve of your back down to your ass, the splitting of your legs hidden beneath the now damp clothing, your hair beginning to cling to you as it continued to mist. 

"Beautiful. . ." he mumbled, extending a hand to pull you off the soft ground.

Taking his hand in yours he effortlessly lifted you from your seat, leading you by the hand back into the house. "How are you this morning my dear?" he asks, closing the doors behind you right as the light mist began to become a full blown rain fall. You quickly stood in front of the fireplace warming your hands as the wood crackled. The tips of your fingers slightly burning at the sudden sensation of warmth. "Very chilly." Taking the space behind you and pressing his chest to your back, Charles ran his hands up your arms. "Can't have you catching a cold can we?" finally steady and wrapped around your smaller form, he placed his chin on the crown of your head, enveloping you in his body heat. "The King will call upon you again. . " Charles spoke with negativism, not wanting to upset you or ruin the mood, but it was true. His Majesty would most definitely call upon you to come to court, rather to seek council or more lecherous reasons being. He made it known he adored your company, and often looked for you whenever Thomas made an appearance. Like a child awaiting their playmate. You kept distance given the excuse of work, pressing matters, ill health. 

Jealousy was beginning to seethe its way into Charles's veins. He wanted nothing more than to lock you away, hide you in a tower like a Prince in a fairy tale, kill the dragon and lay claim to you as his. Not wanting to raise suspicion you often went to court alone or with Thomas, leaving Charles alone to his own activities, often in the court itself and meeting him there, but when he couldn't stomach your interactions with Henry, he was quick to make himself scarce.

"You fear me becoming one of his lingering ladies in waiting? I don't think Lady Boleyn would even allow me to look in his direction." you assured him. The Lady Boleyn was far from a harlot, and had on many occasions turned down from what you'd heard; the King's letters, his gifts, his jewelry. Fearing for her safety, you could see it in her eyes whenever you met gazes across the room. Fearing already the lingering eye of the king that had readily caught the attention of her sister Mary, and left her great with his child. You shivered at the thought. Poor Anne, merely adapting to playing as a pawn on Henry chest board, you could read it as her plays became more relentless, like a cornered animal, the young girl was obvious looking for a corner to claw her way out of, or at least settle. 

A harsh knock on the door interrupted your train of thought, and quickly removing yourself from Charles grasp, you made hasty work of disappearing into your quarters as a housemaid came to announce the arrival of Thomas More. "Have you heard the news?!" Thomas shouted, a smile splitting his face and a sweat worked on his furrowed brow; it was obvious he came here in a tremendous hurry. Joy radiating off of him. Charles attempted to compose himself, look as casual as he could with a semi-, and unsure what to do with his arms. "What word do you bring Thomas?" he asks, opening his arms to welcome the older gentlemen. "Wolsey has been arrested. . " Those words. The words that shook Charles to his core, made his eyes wide and pulse seem to come to a halt. 

"Where's the little one?" Thomas asked, looking around the room, literally spinning around searching for you. "Y/N!?" he called for you as he began walking through the house, Charles following behind. Only with a quick knock before full on barging into your room, you had mere few moments to make yourself decent with a robe to prevent yourself from being scantily clad in your see-through night gown. "THOMAS MY GOD!" you shouted as you cloaked yourself. 

"Y/N! Cardinal Wolsey has not only been arrested, his government homes have been seized!" He shouted, lifting you from the pits of your arms and swinging you around the room. "My dear, not only have you secured your safety, you've taken down your enemy!" he cheers pulling you into an embrace. The news just as sudden struck you as it struck Charles, your eyes bulged, your head spun. A slight sense of anxiety crept up, accompanied close behind was excitement. "We'll celebrate tonight at the palace!" More explained. You had to admit, you'd never seen your mentor more joyful than now, appearing to be bursting at the seams with pure enthusiasm. "Tonight?" Charles asked, stepping further into frame. "What is tonight?" Charles asks, going to your side, creating space between you and Thomas. His hands steadily creeping up the side of your arm and resting on your elbow. A gesture not lost on Thomas. He watched idly, noting the subtle nods to you and him, Charles's darting eyes between both him and you. He said nothing of course, only informed you that the King was having a formal celebration and that the queen in waiting Anne Boleyn would be attending alongside the king. 

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A raucous party in celebration of a rather morbid cause. The dismissing and ultimate downfall of a malicious Cardinal, and the ending of a marriage sanctified by a God that seemed to not answer any prayers. The King sat at the center of the long table, his lady at his side with her hand on his thigh. Drinks were had, delectable food on every table. Hefty platters of assorted smoked meats, no cup ran dry as the party went on into the late hours of the night. You however sat statuesque at the side of your mentor, Charles sitting across the room from you however his gaze never wondering too far off from you as you finally began making your rounds to the other guests, sharing the story of the shape shifter who predicted the downfall of a malevolent influence. Charles watched, slowly following your shadow wherever it went. Watching your face light up as you explained prior circumstances to the ladies in waiting, gabbed about games, books, and boys. Once more so, Charles seemed to immitate your facial expressions even from a far, sharing a smile, your laugh would bleed into his audio and he couldn't help but catch a contagious chuckle. At one point taking a stance directly standing behind you as you gabbed with noble guests, drank wine and gossiped. 

Thomas watched again, staying at arms distance but always noticing Charles like a shadow, never too far from you. It wasn't until you'd been call to the dance floor by none other than lady Anne herself. "I. . I'm not sure how to do this very well." you explained as she attempted to guided your two left feet. "Nonsene! No, no! I'll teach you!" she teased grabbing both your hands and showing you how to move, how to step, how to sway. Her smile was infectious, her manners were excellent and her charm like no other; if the King hadn't already laid claim to her, you would've easily had your heart stolen by her as well. 

Thomas took the opportunity to join Charles in the corner of the room as he watched you like a wolf watching a flock of sheep. The way you turned, and twirled, and laugh, by God your laugh could make even a priest kick in a stained glass window. Thomas watched as Charles expression softened, his smile became toothy and his stature changed making him appear almost lighter. "All of this for the sake of love and beauty. Uprooting an entire country for a beautiful girl. . . seems a little unreasonable.." Thomas opened the dialogue. " Charles conquered both keeping their voices down. " As long as he's happy." Charles takes a sip of his wine. "Yes, men have the ability to ignore all reason when it comes to beautiful women." Thomas speaks, now looking directly in your direction as he spoke. "In the stories of King Arthur, a knight in Arthur's court, Lancelot, falls in love and beds one of Arthur's ladies in waiting, in some versions its his wife, the king finds out and kills them both, the kingdom then collapses on itself. ." Charles brow twitches, he sighs before turning to directly face Thomas, with his hands on his hips, and squared shoulders. 

"Well it's a good notice the men of the court have no interest in the queen." Charles quips only for Thomas to retaliate. "You're a fool." Thomas speaks short and to the point, the end of his sentence dying in his throat as if he was hoping not to have to take this stand. "You're an admirable man, I've seen you on the battlefield, and off. You can hold a drink and are well off maintaining your own household. I like you a lot and the King adores you like you were his own brother. I don't want to have to mourn the loss of you, OR Y/N because you decided she'd warm your bed for a month." Charles appeared wounded, taken back by the truth. What were his intentions with you? What future did the two of you had under the thumb of Henry? 

Taking his glass in both his hands, he walked away from the conversation. 

You and Anne danced until the jig came to an end, both breathless, a tad sweaty and meeting the applause of your waiting audience. You smiled, before pressing a palm to your face hiding it. "Please, please won't you come join me at my table?" the young brunette pleads, grabbing at your arm and leading you to the table to sit among them. "So tell me Y/N, how does one accurately predict the future?" she asks leaning in, eagerly awaiting the answers to what fate has bestowed upon her. "Maps, stars, numbers really." you explain meekly as Henry listens in on the conversation. "Her and More share great knowledge of the stars." he explains leaning over Anne to give you a grin. "Birthdates, time and place can give a good reading if you want to really know yourself." you explain. "Oh please! You must show me one of these days, I'd love to see how it all!" she explains eagerly, clasping your hands at which you give her a grin. Another jig commenced, the King gingerly taking Anne's hand as he excused themselves from the table and back onto the dance floor.

Charles noticing the empty seats beside you and deciding to take action as he took place in front of you beyond the table. "Would you do me the honor?" he asks, extending his hand towards you. Smiling slightly before removing your napkin from your lap you went to him. The dance commenced, and the two of you hooked arms, looking at each other as you separated, changing partners only to connect again, hooked arms causing the two of you to swing. 

As you locked eyes, a stillness struck both of you. Almost causing your breath to hitch as you looked at each other. A grand juncture as it seemed the lights dimmed and voices silenced. Charles looked at you as if you were made of gold. He longed only to touch you, claim you. To hell with all of them. Their judgment, their ideals of a relationship, love or marriage. In the growing time Charles had often thought he would marry for the title or dowry, his life passing him one moment to the next. Spurts of joy, anguish, name calling, pain, no one seeing him for who he was or what he was capable of. Son of a whore. Worthless, King's pet, only doing what the strings of the puppeteer allowed him. Looking at you he was struck with utter sense of joy, he couldn't put his finger on it. That you were his, his alone. A tangible happiness, quiet literally at the tips of his fingers. 

As you twirled and turned again, the music flooded both your ears and it seemed as though the slow, precious moment dissipated and you were both brought back down to earth. Unbeknownst to you, your face was flushed and your heart beat echoed in your ears and loins. Holding his hand to his chest, you looked around as the other couples returned to their seat, the sound of laughter and gossip drowned out the dying heartbeat and the two of you looked at each other. Quickly lifting your dress to remove yourself from the brewing anxiety attack that awaited you if you remained in that space, not knowing Charles was quietly following you into the hallway and down a dark corridor. 

Catching your breath in the dimly lit cold hallway, with only the crackling sound of a torch to keep you company you pressed your face to your hands. What were you doing? What was happening? Your heart beat quickened again and the heavy beat continued until it was the only thing you heard. Your stomach in absolute knots. This feeling was so unfamiliar, and uncomfortable. You wrestled with your corset and bodice, fidgetting and placing your hand on your chest. Love? No. Couldn't be. 

What future would you have together? Sneaking under the kings nose until he had both your heads on a platter? A firm hand found its way on your shoulder making you shout only for your words to die in your throat as another hand clasped around your mouth. "Shhh... it's ok." Charles voice promptly hushing you, his lips brushing against your temple before he placed a soft kiss against your forehead. Leaning closer to the light to see the outline of your face there was another brief moment of hesitation as he looked at you. Searching each other's eyes as if asking the same question before he quickly removed his hand from your mouth and replaced it with his. A hot kiss, opened mouth and eager hands searched and grabbed at your hips before finally settling on your face. He licked your bottom lip, tasted the remaining wine, shared your alcoholic saliva and sucked on your tongue. Continuing to grope you, grab you as if you were to disappear had he let go even for an instant.

A soft whimper escaped your lips, in between small breaks of the lips. Breathing became heavy, and motions became desperate. "What are we going to do?" you ask, nearly in tears. "What are we going to do?" you ask again continuing kissing down Charles jawline as he tried to pull together words, string together a sentence, something. Anything that would bring comfort to you and pacify your anxiety if only for an instant. "I don't know," he confessed, kissing the crown of your head, feeling beads of sweat form on your forehead. "I don't know. ." he repeated. Kissing down your face, your lips and nose. "Everything will be alright. .everything's going to be alright." he promised. "I'll take care of you now. ." was all that came to mind. Holding you close, closing his eyes and bringing his lips back to yours a slight gasp escaping him as tears weld up in the corners of his eyes knowing there was nothing he could say or do to prevent the very real fear from overcoming you.


	11. Chapter 11

Getting Thomas More to agree to be Henry's chancellor; Henry felt he had an easier time pulling teeth. All but pleading with his former advisor to take the sitting place Thomas Wolsey had formally sat, More couldn't help but be suspicious of the haunting outcome of the man that sat there before. Wolsey not being a family man, had not much left to lose when he decided to slit his own throat in prison. Would More meet the same fate by being tempted out of his morals and ideas for the sake of jewels, wealth, vanity? 

While going through paperwork and the on going brewing tension in the castle came to a head when Henry ultimately sent Catherine away. The sound of her prayers, pleading and sobs echoed through out the stone castle and was enough to make her ladies in waiting not help but join in her anguish as the once reining Queen fell down on her knees and sobbed. She had hoped, she had prayed, done all she could to appease both the lord and her husband, even at one point coming to the King on her knees and prayed that he remembered what they had in the beginning. Her tears however moving, and heart breaking were wasted on the young King as he closed the door to her room and allowed for the audible sound of heart break to radiate off the walls and back to him.

Anne now a regular in court had taken the privileged of aligning her own ladies in waiting, the beautiful women crossed you multiple times in the hall, each one prettier than the next. The friction however not lost on any passerby's as the Spaniards often clashed with the Boleyn girl, who herself had a silver tongue and quick temper. She took glee in sitting by Henry's side this Monday morning during a Hastilude. 

It was foggy, and dense. The competition remained men of the King's court, one of them the ever charming Charles Brandon. Always up for sport. Both Anthony and Thomas joining in the game. You thought nothing of it, and were admittedly drowsy due to the gloomy weather. Sitting in the bleachers along among the company of nobles. Young girls whispering to each other, flirting, and batting eyelashes on unsuspecting knights, hoping to seduce or enchant. You at this time took the liberty to check out your nail beds, shift your feet under your heavy dress and literally find anything from distracting you from the pain of your corset. 

The heavy beat of horse shoes rumbled the soft grassy ground below you and looking up a shadow casted over you, amid the silence and hushed tones of the women next to you, you looked up to meet the piercing blue green eyes of Charles, nearly hidden under a helmet. "My Lady L/N." his voice firm, commanding, causing all around to look in your direction. Anne leaned over Henry's arm, smiling eagerly giving a knowing look, only to meet Henry who looked none too pleased. 

"Will you allow me your favour?" 

He asks. A chivalrous and old fashioned notion, you were taken back by this small gesture of love. A slight panic but bold move to sort of lay claim to you in front of all. Henry's lips shifted into a thin straight line, that immedietly dissolved as Anne shook his arm like an over eager teenager. "Oh how darling!" she whispered. 

Lifting his couched lance gingerly so it didn't strike anyone sitting around, you removed a small handkerchief from your sleeve, and tide it around the wood. Charles eyes never once leaving yours as made sure the material stayed in place before returning to your seat only to meet a sea of hushed whispers "oh's" and "ah's" along with a slurry of whispers, jealous eyes of young maidens as well as knowing glances from elders. 

As the game commenced, Charles winning in every round, you went from meek and quiet to the loudest one among your group. Retraining yourself from swinging your arms or audibly yelling was a skill you had yet to learn. Sitting idly waiting for the game to set up, a farm hand belonging to Mr. Thalis staggered out of the equipment tent, catching your eye as he came into the frame of your view. Confused as he held himself up by whatever he could grab, you leaned forward a bit, assuming the young man to be drunk. It wasn't until a primary made his way on the field and caught the poor man that you realized as the words escaped his lips, shouting and yelling causing the crowds of people to immedietly flood the isles and stairways of the bleachers as they attempted to escape. "He's got the sweat!" HE'S GOT THE SWEAT!" the man explains as the young lad collapses in his arms, causing the older gentlemen to fall with him, only for him to scramble backwards, his heels kicking up dirt as he tried to bring distance between them. 

You sat seemingly frozen into place, people trampling on one another trying to reach the stairs, the ends of your dress getting stomped out as the crowd stormed for the exit. The King making a quick exit, eagerly ditching his mistress in waiting. Anne quickly pulled in the opposite direction of Henry by her brother and father disappearing into the crowd. Your hands flailed, swinging in an attempt to find something, anything to hang onto as the sea of people continued to leave. Finally resulting in climbing on your chair, causing it to rock until collapsing on the floor. You quickly opted for crawling and climbing towards the wooden stair case at the opposite end. Picking up the ends of your dresses and ditching your shoes, you ran towards the stables. Prying open the heavy door and finding two mares galloping and kicking off their hind legs as you approached them, whinnying sensing the tension and chaos of the screams that occupied the outdoors. You held your hands up, backed away slowly,ever so slowly stilling your breath as the beast steadied itself, placing its nose in your hand. You stroked the front of its head, whispered sweet nothings. Completely unsure of how you were going to leave the sea of chaos that laid outside the wooden shed. 

And Charles? Where was Charles? Had he been in the same tent as Thomas Thalis? Had he shared farm hands? No, no time to think of that now. Grabbing the saddle that laid on the wooden beam of the side of the stall you were almost taken back at the sheer weight of it and had to resort to nearly throwing it over the back of the horse. "How the hell am I going to do this?!" you complained out loud before climbing onto the side of the stable and straddling the horse. "Ok. . Ok." you calmed yourself down, tutting the sides of the horse with your heels, getting the horse to move. Gingerly steering the reigns as you made your way out the stables only to find the stadium bare, a few stragglers attempting to still leave the surrounding areas, the dead body of the farmhand standing in the middle of the field. "Brandon!" you called, as the horse galloped around "Charles Brandon?!" you yelled. Had he left without you? 

Kicking your heels harder to gain speed, you looked around the area, the ground muddy, murky, and thunder looming overhead, no doubt it'd be raining soon and you could feel your now bare feet catch a chill as you looked around the area. The arena mostly abandoned, shabby buildings and tents bound to be burned or blown away, you shuddered at the thought of God forbid anyone still remaining, none the less you still searched for Charles. The soft clanking of heavy armor, caused you to turn at attention, meeting the soft green orbs of Charles. Now without a helmet, he looked flushed, cheeks beat red and a sweat worked on his brow, still armor clad. "Where were you?!" you cried quickly dismounting from the horse and into his arms. "I know, I know! I was looking for you!" he explained. "Did you share farmhands with Thomas? Is he alright?!" you ask, tears from sheer anxiety brimming your eyes, your hands shook violently as the rain began to fall. 

"He's alright, he's fine. Lets go home." he attempted to hush you, bringing your face close to his, kissing your temples. 

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Sweating Sickness had all but flooded the city. Creating a further degree of separation between everyone. The King quarantining in his castle, poor sweet Anne sent away in her family home. You and Charles held up in the manor. Taking the liberty of sending home any helping hands in an attempt to reduce the chance of infection seeing as both Henry and Anne had left note of two workers dying. The two of you fended for yourselves. Cooking, cleaning. You taught him how to make bread and mend clothing. He taught you how to polish a saber, and start a fire with kindling and flint. After hearing of the surmounting deaths, following the death of poor Thomas Thalis, you went from brushing off the whole plague ideals and into full blown paranoia. You were currently on a tirade, and had been insistent on constant bathing and hand washing. 

"I think you're getting carried away sweetheart." he commented watching you scrub the floors. Using a mixture of both spirit and lemon in a bucket of hot water, you took the liberty of deep cleaning the house, every nook and cranny, places the help had been neglectful to reach. Now cleaning the hard floors of the study as Charles sat with his feet up and a book you had recommended in hand.

On your hands and knees, hair tied in a heavy bun, the scrubbing of the bristles and soft crackling of the fireplace, Charles took many a breaks from his reading to watch you work. Caught up in your work, you ignored his comment. Sporting one of his tunics, rolled up to your elbows and hiked up around your waist, the backward and forward motion of you caught his eye and his unconscious need tugging at the edges of his lip into a slight smirk. You'd dusted, cleaned, polished, all but stripped the paint from the walls, you were working yourself ragged. Deciding now was the time to intervene as worry had all but killed your libido he kicked his heels down from the table and set his book aside. Watching your hips rock back and forth with the force you used in attempt to scrub the color off the floor, he 'hmm'd at the swaying motion. 

"Sweetheart, I think that's enough for the day. . " he spoke now walking towards you so he had one leg on each side of you, finally getting your attention. He sat on his knees, leaning over so his chest was pressed against your back and reaching over removed the scrubbing brush from your grips. "I said I think that's enough!" he explained. You froze in place, feeling his familiar weight on you, his other hand finding it's place on your stomach and pulling you back so your back was framed against his chest and your head was resting right under his chin as he sat back on his knees. "You don't like listening to me do you?" he asked, looking down at you. " I'm just being cautious." you explained. His hands drifted as you spoke, unlacing the top of your shirt as you spoke. "I hear the King is sick, they're over their fuming his castle with incense and prayers. ." you explained, a soft sight escaping your lips as Charles pressed a soft kiss to your temple, his hand in your shirt, slowly thumbing a nipple that had began to pebble under his touch. "And I . . .don't think that's the best way to cleanse a space. " your voice growing softer as his lips brushed against your lips, cheeks and temples , the ends of your sentence dying in your throat as Charles other hand slowly starts bunching up your shirt, gathering in the crux of your thighs. "And I think. . ." "You think too much." Charles mouth finally capturing yours. It was true. You had sat in the arms of paranoia for the remaining days since confessing to the King who you really were. 

You were scared. For Thomas, who now sat in the position once held by the now deceased Wolsey, for Catherine who now sat outside her bearings separated from her child, for Anne, poor sweet Anne who attempted to navigate her way to safety on the chest board that was now her life. 

Charles soft lips brush against yours, his tongue slithers in as he removes the hand from your shirt, he leaned back on the floor and brought you into his lap. You sighed contently at this sense of contact, a sort of comfort he could bring to you was subdued by the days trouble. Intimacy was a luxury put on the back burner given the circumstance. It'd taken every measure of strength to keep Charles from pressing himself to you, given the public life of court, servers day in and day out, lingering eyes. Understandable why you had denied each other the pleasure of one another. Now it was just the two of you.

Crossing his legs and turning you so your legs straddled his sides, he watched your reaction, your heart was flying in your chest. Watching the light from the fireplace reflect in his eyes, he continued unlacing your shirt. “ You read too much into situations. . “ his tone deep, tender good to keep. “ you can only do so much, whether our fate be written in the stars, or the smoke. . . Or tea leafs” he raised his legs slightly so your groin was sitting directly on his pelvis. “ lean into this with me. . .be here with me. . “ a growl at the end of his sentence as he took your bottom lip into his. "I must say as much as I like you in my shirts, I do prefer to see you without anything, really." you giggled as he kissed the space of your neck where your shoulder and neck connected. Breathy sighs, his hands roaming further down your spine to the globes of your ass, lifting you into his pelvis so you could feel his erection press against your mound, earning him another moan. "Time we forget for a moment's sake." he promised.

You kissed up and down the ridge of his nose as he leaned back working on the leather straps of his britches, your stomach a flutter. The open position had worked you up already, his heels digging into your bum as he made sure you stayed in place as he freed himself. You sat back on your palms as he worked to free himself, falling back on your elbows as his erection sprung free, bouncing against his stomach. Quickly lifting the back of his shirt, removing it before following you on the floor and settling between your legs, his lips quickly returning to yours.

One hand cupping your face he inhaled your scent, his other hand wondering to the place between your legs settling there when he found the damp fabric of your underwear, his index finger rubbing the soft bud of nerves causing your legs to quake, and you to shiver.

Charles smirked as your eager hands cupped his face, your hair spreading along the hard floor as his hand pressed firmly against your drooling sex. An invading digit slowly entering your body with ease emitting a low groan from Charles as he continued getting lost in the kiss. Breathy sighs and a slight whimper as he continued to work you. You could feel your walls a flutter as his thumb pressed against your clit. The familiar tingling burning sensation causing your to slightly arch, allowing Charles further access to your neck. “ That’s it. . That’s it.” He watched you blossom for him, surrendering all thoughts and caving into the moment, the pleasure. 

Adding another thick finger in your channel feeling your walls stretch to accommodate him, your arms gingerly found themselves around his neck, his lips pressing further into the nape of your neck and he audibly grunted as he felt your body begin to relax underneath him. Withdrawing his hand from your underwear you whined as Charles removed himself from your grasp, only to place his hands underneath your tunic, lace around the edges of your undergarments and pull them down past your knees. Sitting on his knees he leaned over lifting your from the waist placing you in his lap so your legs straddle his torso. His apparent erection rubbing on your inner thigh. You sigh content as you’re again wrapped in his embrace, body temperature rising and enveloping you in a comforting warmth. Charles chuckled as your eagerness gets the best of you and in an attempt to soothe the dull ache growing between your legs, you need it. The burning ache of needing to be touched there. There. You slightly rock your hips so the tip of his cock gently kisses the hood of your clit, grazing the engorged bundle of nerves just so, pulling a low mew from the back of your throat.

Just as eager he lifted himself to meet your small rocking motion, nearly catching himself inside you. The tip of his cock teasing your drooling entry and he watches your face with a gaping maw and shortened breath. Your eyes were glazed over, fixated down wondering why he hadn’t entered you yet. Settling on his pelvis he angled you down slightly before lowering you fully until he had completely bottomed out. A heavenly moan pulled from the back of your throat as you felt completely full. Your inner walls slightly struggling to accommodate his girth and your hands latch onto his shoulders as he raises you and then lowers you again, making his moans in sync with yours, and his eyes nearly roll back. 

“God I’ve missed this....” his hands more confidently grasping at your waist as he began pumping into you, working you at a slow rhythm in the beginning. You chewed your lips, clung to skin, attempting to subdue another moan as it worked its way from your chest to your gullet. Charles shoulders began to cling to your finger tips as he perspired and the growing burning sensation of your loins began to creep its way up your belly button. Your back arched, legs shifted so you sat at an angle where somehow the place Charles had carved into you was now being dug deeper and met with enthusiasm at every pump, a feat he gladly watched as your emotions ran across your predominantly stoic face. 

Lids heavy, mouth opened and cheeks flushed, Charles looked at as if you were the Venus herself. Unable to help himself a sweaty heavy palmed grasped under your tunic at your breasts, thumbing your nipple. You eagerly nodded another small mew coming out of you to applaud his efforts. Charles didn’t need to be told twice and in a flash the tunic is torn in two “I’m sorry sweetheart...I cannot wait..” he states plainly, as a puckered nippled finds its way into his mouth. Small lapping of his tongue, before sucking them into his perfect lips, you arch your back to meet his efforts.

Your excitement grew as you seemed to bob up and down on his member, the tingling sensation growing. Modesty be dammed. His massive hands finding their way to your back, fingers brushing against the blades before he gently placed you back on the floor so he was again sitting on his knees. Charles angled you so your hips remained on his pelvis still connected. Watching your breasts bounce with every thrust his movements became more violent as he fucked you. Your hands eagerly reaching out grasping at his forearms as you slowly became unhinged lost in bliss. The growing burning sensation causing your inner walls to quake around his member and the head of his cock consistently bashing the inner spongy bundle of nerves. Close, you were slow close.

Charles smirked, watching your expression slowly go more and more slack, your breath caught in your throat. Panting, moaning Charles followed you with a low growl. “Ah-Ha, yes that’s it.. that’s so perfect.” You clamped down on his member and your back arched as the wave of your orgasm peaked. Continuing to work you through, your toes curled as Charles continued pistoning into you, following you in release. He bottomed out with one final rough plow, holding you there as his spent his load. His fingers digging into your hips, shaking before collapsing on top of you. “Oh... my God.” A slight whisper escaped you. Charles still anchored inside you chuckled. “If God is real, he was in the room with us.” at which you giggle.


	12. Chapter 12

Thomas More always considered himself a blessed man, being lead by the hand of God, hoping to carry that grace into his position of chancellor. However having his hands bound by his duty but his humanity yanking at his conscious at every execution. He had all but pleaded with Mr. Fish to explain himself close and carefully. The man had only stated the cruelty and the gluttony of the church. Thomas hadn't told anyone but he wept as the elder man went up in flames. His vow to cure the land of heresy, he had meant and taken to heart. However could this be the right thing if taking lives was the result? His back burned and blistered as his former lashes healed over and new ones bleed into his shirt underneath, making him double up on tunic. Incredibly torn physically and mentally. He knew to tread carefully if he wanted to keep his place above the crushing waves that was King Henry's temper and unpredictable mood. His new pet Mr. Cromwell had become a growing pain in his side, as Cromwell had wormed his way into higher and closer position to the court, poor Cromwell had the smugness of a man who had not known he was sitting in a nest of vipers.

After the lovely couple battled a bout of sickness and came out the other end, it seemed Henry had a new sense of vigor about him. Having a ball to celebrate the new found meaning of life. Sweet Anne had given him a collection of new literature that had been banned previously by the church, and had a sudden thirst for knowledge, and generosity, went about court giving out titles on whims. The Boleyn family had three new titles, Thomas Boleyn being made 1st Earl of Wiltshire, Anne's brother George being appointed gentleman of the Privy Chamber and her uncle a remaining member of the court. God did he irk Charles. Constantly confiding in him of his worries, further influences outside the court, how and what Anne should do to further herself into the King's good graces. And Poor sweet Anne, had grown inpatient waiting for the King to be granted a divorce, it became more and more apparent as the council met. Henry screaming, shouting. It was clear. . he was having a dry spell. His exchequer now empty, Henry had growing concerns. 

He had toiled in and out, of moods angrily shouting, breaking mirrors, chairs yelling at his help and had more than one occasion launched himself on his help whenever delivered bad moods. Henry grew tired of different opinions, different voices in his ears, Anne in one ear, Cromwell in the other, Thomas More in the opposite direction. "Y/N!" He came bellowing down the corridors as the doors opened, "Y/N!? WHERE IS SHE?!" He shouted, attempting to pacify the growing anxiety that lingered in his chest, his brow sweat, his heart raced, he could do nothing to get rid of this feeling. His doctors lingered not too far from him, worried he would work himself into a fainting spell. "Y/N?!" He continued to shout, thundering down the hallways of his palace. You however sat occupied in the library, one hand on a quill, the other in an old esoteric. The loud echoing footsteps is what you heard first, followed by the loud clicking of heals close behind. It wasn't often his majesty would fetch you on his own, often equipping an aid to find you. But today was different, he was unhinged, angry. The large door of the library opened with a loud bang. "Y/N!?" Henry repeated, walking down the hallways of books, repeating your name on his lips like a prayer. You quickly removed yourself from the desk you occupied, meeting him in the middle of the enormous room. 

"What is this!? What is happening?! What is happening in the heavens that stirs my guts so treacherously?!" his sentence spewing a line of spit from his teeth, shining his lips. His piercing grey eyes glossed over and a red tint had taken over his facial features. You shook at his words, as the air around him changed. Thomas often spoke of the young king's fits of rage but you had yet to actually witness an actual tantrum. You dipped your head in respect before looking him over. Clearly, agitated and unsure of his footing in the world due to the politics falling off the left end in France, his lover denying him, and currently having difficulties with the church it was no wonder he felt wound tight. You looked him up and down, he reached out to grab your forearms. " I don't know what it is that is wrong with me, I feel as though everything comes so close only to be ripped away from me." Attempting to find a way to quickly pacify the pleading man in front of you while not stepping on any toes. ."More always said he'd find comfort in praye-""I'VE PRAYED TO GOD IN HEAVEN OVER AND OVER AGAIN, WHY HAS HE NOT ANSWERED ME?!" Henry shouted so loud to the point you shook. "Has he. . . has he abandoned me completely because I wish to be free of this bastardization of a marriage?!" the gleam in his eyes made your eyes widen. "Your majesty, would you like to go somewhere with me?" you ask him, searching his eyes for an answer.

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"Do you see this tree bark right here?" you ask Henry, your small digits digging slightly into the shrubbery that occupied the trunk of a massive tree. Having decided to take Henry out in the wood, no hunting party, no colleagues, you empathized with the young king in his feeling of entrapment; yourself only occupying that head space not too long ago. Henry looked diligently over the course thick bark of the tree, seeing a large gaping chunk of white flesh that was a clear indication that the bark had clearly suffered some form of trauma, only to be covered with a sea of white budding blossoms. "It's suffered tremendously. . ." you noted, his eye sight switched over to you and his gaze softened. "Is suffering necessary in all life?" Henry asked. "Only if we are to change. . so often then not we are stuck between who we are and who we are meant to be." Henry paused at your words, drinking them in one by one as if they were wine. "And in order to change . . . we must surrender who we are in order to become something greater." 

The cogs in Henry's mind turning, and his breathing finally regulated. "Do you think I can be greater than what I am Y/N?" he asks, circling the tree to come around to your view. You paused, thought to yourself carefully, knowing how fragile Henry was in this state. "I believe you wouldn't be suffering as much if it wasn't without reason." you licked your lips. "The pain of labor, they say is to be touched by the divine, perhaps you are experiencing a rebirth?" you suggest. It was then Henry's fingers gingerly brushed against your knuckles that rested against the tree before bringing your hand to his lips and gently pressing a wet kiss on your hand. "Again. . I have no clue how More has kept you hiding from me." his tone grew dark, almost feigning. "To have such an enchanting woman under his nose, I don't know how he could resist. . " he flirts. You smiley before gingerly pulling your hand away from his grasp. "To have such a charming King, Lady Anne is very lucky to have you under hers." You stepped away from Henry, his gaze following you though as he is again denied but in such a charming way, he could only smile. "How are you feeling?" you ask as you continue the stroll. 

"Better. . .much better."

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If Henry took the slightest moment, to see past his own nose, he would easily see past at how Charles danced with you, looked at you, his hands placed on you in between dance partners. Hell if Henry took more than ten minutes from himself he'd see the illicit affair that was taking place of his other members of the court. He was however too occupied with how Anne looked swaying in the arms of Mark Smeaton. Her glimmering smile, the pink apples of her cheeks. However once he caught the top of Charles head in passing he demanded the young duke sit beside him. You however remaining in the corner and as far away from the hungry eyes of the king, disappearing with the gossiping crowd, your fingers occupying a golden chalice of wine. 

Henry leaned over to Charles at his side. "I'm losing sleep Charles. . ." he confessed. Charles looked puzzled for a second before furrowing his brows. "I need you to talk to Catherine, she simply won't listen to reason." Charles who had grown awfully fond of Princess Catherine and her courage making her all that more admirable, had a hard time digesting the instructions he was given. "Please Charles. . " Henry pleaded, before the Duke nodded, taking his leave and going down the hallway to the queens chambers.  
A small chambermaid taking leisure in needle work while her majesty sat warmly by the fire place, her blue green eyes shined in the embers of the wood. "I request on audience with her Majesty. . " Charles spoke softly formally, and as always causing the young girl to swoon before she regarded Catherine who was already approaching the two. Bowing his head as she approached, "Your grace." her lovely accent accentuating her appeal. "I need to speak to her Majesty alone." his tone remaining soft as the fellow chamber maids all but seemed to disappear from the room. "Has my beloved sent you? During the night? Why?" she asks. Her tone clearly still enamored with the young king, her heart heavy with the love for him despite all he had done to her, Charles couldn't help but hurt for her. 

"The King is asking you be sensible, not to draw this out longer than it already has been and withdraw your appeal to Rome and trust him with your affairs in his hands. He promises you'll want for nothing, both you and your daughter will be taken care of with tremendous generosi-" 

"I cannot be bought." Catherine cut him off with a quickness. "Only the Pope is a vessel for God's power here on Earth, no amount of man made votes can invalidate the divine being that is the eternal truth." 

Charles started "But the King-""Your grace." Catherine again intervened. "I have loved the King as much as much as any woman can love a man, and I know you know what that's like." The young duke paused. "Because you love her the way I love him, I see the way you look at her and I see the way she looks at you." she informs Charles, her hand resting on the fire place, gliding across it as she walks over to him. " You love Y/N, and I know she returns your affections. . ." her soft tone and lingering voice hummed in the air. Charles felt more exposed than usual, as though he'd been stripped bare before the queen and the vulnerability left him feeling quiet uncomfortable. "How did you know?" Charles asks, his hands beginning to fidget. "You see everything when no one sees you." At that notion, Charles could hear the sound of Catherine's heart breaking. How long had she gone on without the touch of her husband? A passing glance? One look? 

Her eyes glossy with unshed tears. She took a step towards Charles, and in a tone barely above a whisper. "I have no need to tell your secrets; but one thing I will not argue with you, is I am the King's true wife. Go to Rome if you feel you must argue your case with men who will tell you the exact same thing." 

Henry did not sleep well that night.  
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Charles sat behind you, his fingers slipping into the ties of your dress, undoing your laces. "I'm anxious Charles. ." you confessed a slow tugging as you rocked back and forth as he undid your binds. "Why sweetheart? We've nothing to fret over." he kissed your shoulder. "I feel as though I'm staring into murky water, unsure of what sits just below the surface." you began undoing your hair before walking over to the wardrobe and removing a thin cotton chemise. 

"Do you think the King suspects something?" you ask, your words shaky and you almost regret saying them out loud. Charles expression goes from confused to agitated and the wrinkle in forehead becomes prominent. "Do you think he'd turn his eyes up from his own situation if he did?" Charles asked. His confidence seemed almost false, the sheer audacity that Henry would clearly not notice the growing absences, the looks, the lingers, Charles carrying your favour during jousting. " If he does suspect something, he'd see it as a passing fancy, and go about his way. . " you wanted so badly to be offended but there was truth in this statement. Charles's history was a spotty one. No consistency; Hell even when he was married to Margot, he was always elsewhere, with someone doing God knows what. 

"For once your coquettish nature seems to do us some good." you jest, removing your stockings before returning to bed. "For now, Henry is too occupied trying to find his way up Boleyn's skirt. Check the right boxes, say the right things. . you've nothing to worry about sweetheart." Charles pulled your arm across him, tugging you to lay on his side as his other arm wrapped around you, his hand thumbing your hip. "These are trying times, all are too occupied finding their own salvation to look towards one another for it." "Thomas-" you thought out loud. You'd kept your mentor in the dark about the current affair, not intentionally however, but he had been so busy attempting to reform the church and bring glory back to the faith that he had been lost in work for the last few weeks, only seeing you in passing. Charles lips brushed against the side of your head and jaw, wanting to eagerly comfort you from your thoughts. He pressed you down towards his chest, a hand remaining in your hair as he continued to whisper sweet nothings to you, the echoing of his heart beat lulling you to sleep.


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is so short but I wanted to update and get the ball rolling.

Thomas had produced an array of grey hair as his days grew more and more gruesome with the passing time he spent as Chancellor. When the time came he could no longer operate in good faith to the best of his services to the King, he had a discussion with his daughter about martyrdom. He knew full well the consequences of his actions and was made fully aware of how fast Henry was to change his mind, his direction, his thought process to anyone with honeyed words, or charisma. His concern grew further when the snake Thomas Cromwell took the liberty of drafting an oath that made Henry head of the church and there for outranking the pope. Catherine was all but in shambles to see her beloved husband not only turn his back on the faith but try to move forward with this bastardization of worship. 

His nails were all but bit to the wick. His knees purple from praying day in and day out. Not that his worries for his family were the only ones on his mind, what about Y/N? She had become the king’s darling, his favorite project and a staple in his company, beloved by Anne Boleyn. He knew you well enough to keep yourself around only when in the King’s mistresses eyesight. Knowing full well Henry’s passing advances could easily fall on her, if he were to find himself ‘bored’. 

As he made his way up the pathway of Charle’s Brandon’s Westhorpe Hall, he said a silent prayer knocking on the door before finally letting himself in. Coming down the hallway he heard an array of squeals and the familiar sound of your laughter followed by what sounded like the blunt force of furniture being moved across a hard floor. 

“COME HERE YOU!” Charles? 

“Can’t catch me!” Y/N? The sound of your screaming caused Thomas to make haste, entering the living area, finding you entangled in a mess of limbs, your figure hugged tight against Charles’s figure, your nightgown hiked up in the back caught in Charles knuckles as his lips captured yours, smiling into the kiss. 

A loud gasp followed by the smacking sound of Thomas clasping his hand over his mouth. The books in his hand immediately dropping from his grasp to the floor. He had thought, of course he thought, he saw the way Charles looked at you, even in public, but hope in the back of his mind. Hope. That you were wise enough or at least had the sense to deny the Dukes affections dwindled and now sat shattered, completely obliterated in the matter of the last few minutes. 

You stood gobsmacked, quickly working to lower your gown taking a step away from Charles as though it would lessen the blow, undo what was just seen. “You stupid, stupid child.” Thomas started. Tears in his eyes, his tone set at a frequency that made your heart leap into your throat. “AND YOU CHARLES.. WAS BEING KICKED OUT OF COURT ONCE NOT ENOUGH?! Would you prefer having a fitting with a noose?!” 

“I come here to make my peace before having to surrender myself to the tower, and you two are here rutting like beasts?!” Charles brows turned down, his expression seemingly hardened and he looped his arm around your waist bringing you close to his side. “You misread the situation.” He starts his argument only to quickly be cut off by Thomas. “Am I supposed to expect you suddenly capable of fidelity Charles? That you’re not going to be bored in a day? A week? A month?” You flinched. That one seemingly hurt you more than it did Charles.

“I love her.” 

Charles stated, no upward inflections, no lines pulled or hesitation in his voice. The words flowed so effortlessly, spoken so softly that Thomas almost thought he misheard the duke. 

“Thomas.. what do you mean... surr-surrender yourself to the tower?” You finally spoke. Riddled with concern, anxiety.

Dismissing formalities, you approached your mentor with shaker hands. Thomas bit his lips, looking away and then at the floor. He was stressed, it was apparent. 

“Cromwell, that whoreson... found a way to rid of me. He’s gotten into Henry’s head, further enflated his ego, built a wall between him and God, and now Henry thinks himself of the divine.” Thomas explained. 

Your eyes nearly bulged out of your head.’” I understand you didn’t attend the coronation of Boleyn, but you did pen a letter to Henry, you’ve acknowledged her... why such drastic measures?! What can we do?!” You slowly began to panic. 

People had disappeared under the Kings rule so quickly that it would often cause heads to spin, only for them to be replaced with the same fervor that one would never notice the absence. 

“The Act of Succession has already been drafted, with council expected to swear allegiance to it. Most members have already signed..” Thomas’s voice faltered, and his hand palmed his face. He paused between sentences, “Brandon, you yourself are expected to swear in as well, and you’ll do it if you know what’s good for you.” Thomas almost sounded as though he were making a threat. 

“And you won’t!?” Charles asked, grasping at your shoulders as he advanced toward him.

“I cannot and will not go against the teaching of the papal supremacy. After all I’ve done.. the lives lost because I felt they dismissed the values of the church? What kind of man would I be? Who does that?” His voice almost quivering, he sounded defeated, and the tone was set at such an octave it broke your heart. 

“Charles you are going to swear to it, you are going to protect her.” His voice raised with a roar, closing the distance between you and him, Thomas takes your hand. 

“And you my love, may very well have to learn to love without me.” His voice dying in his throat. Tears conforming in the corners of your eyes. “More.. please, please don’t do this, you know as well as I do and what this means. Please...” you dropped to your knees in front of him, begging the man who’d raised you, your surrogate father, to not be too proud. 

To go to the man you now hated and plead for his life. 

“You have so much more to offer this world Thomas, please, PLEASE..” you broke into sobs. Charles heart ached seeing you in such a way, stripped of pride, or self preservation and unable to help himself he joined you on the floor attempting to pull you up, an act you refused.

Thomas’s eyes were shining with unshed tears, and he stifled a sob, going on his knees as well. 

“I will live on through you, and my children, my wife.” His words, only twisting the dagger of grief that remained in your chest. “You will live to tell the tale of what happened here, you will tell them that a man’s belief is greater than the system he was born into, how ideas shape us to be who we must become.” At this point you knew.

There was no turning back for More. Once his mind was made up, that was it. It was done. You were holding the hands of a dead man. And the damn broke. You screamed so loud that both gentlemen flinched. Thomas pressing your head to place under his chin, a hand in your hair and rocking you like if he would to pacify a small child.

Like he had when you were a child.

“Charles, I leave her in your hands.” His voice returned to the same stern tone, the Duke’s line of sight never breaking eye contact with Thomas. Solid. He wanted Thomas to know he was taking in every word he said. 

“You will go to the country, stay there on leave, until after my trial. Until then we keep a calm head on our shoulders, no one is to know of this, of ANY of this. That includes the rest of the King’s party, or council. House workers should remain at a minimum, there will be very little contact between you two outside of this house, DO YOU UNDERSTAND ME?!” 

Charles reached out his hand, taking More’s in his. Giving it a firm grip as there arms rested over your weeping figure.

**Author's Note:**

> two things, I'll make the first chapters if this does well, I'll continue, if not it'll be over quick. the other thing is I am not a history major so if anyone wants to correct me on wardrobe, sports, diction I am more than open to it.


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